Wolverine and the X Men: Season 2
by bezerkoid
Summary: After the loss of Emma Frost and Magneto being exiled from Genosha, the X-Men must seek to stop the Age of Apocalypse. Unfortunately for the team, several spanners have also been hurled into the works. Please R&R constructively :)
1. A deal near the Red Dawn, Part 1

**A/N: I must confess that despite the show's admittedly noticeable flaws, the writing had caught my attention in a good manner, and I could not bring myself to stop watching. In this I attempt to expand on the cliffhanger left at the end of Season 1 with some plans that the writers had announced but regrettably not been able to do, as well as fix some notable issues I've heard complaints about. Who knows, maybe I will cross over into another part of Marvel, maybe not.**

"Forget it, father."

The man who stood before him had once been a tall and imposing man, even if age had clearly began to catch up with him; before today he had stood as a being of pure majesty and power and could even have been called a messiah by the creed of certain fanatics.

Today, his now rugged hair had now gone white at the edges; his face was drained of practically all remaining colour and his posture had since degraded to a hunch. The only sign he had once been a king was his now tattered and sodden cloak, his helmet long since lost in the ruins of a city.

"What did you say, Pietro?"

"I said that the Brotherhood no longer answers to you, father."

The statement was short and blunt, also carrying the cold undertone of malice. Somewhere in the sentence, Magneto sensed that Pietro had changed rapidly in the span of a few days. In the last few days away from Genosha, he had also become aware of the fact that his son had been bottling up his emotions for some time and that if he did not release them soon he would end up being unable to control them.

"What is the meaning of this defiance, my son?"

Before Magneto could even blink, he found himself staring at a shaking fist barely a couple of millimetres away from his face. He stared in a mix of disbelief and worry at his son, whose face now made no effort to disguise his rage.

"Defiance... **DEFIANCE**!" The first word barely came as a whisper, but by the second Quicksilver had completely lost his patience, as well as the leash on his short temper. Now Magneto found himself violently flung aside, and the only thing shielding him from breaking a couple of bones or permanent brain damage was the thankfully new sofa that cushioned his impact.

"All I asked for was acceptance and for you to show some understanding and concern! Is that too much for any child to ask of their parent? Apparently in your case the answer is yes!"

Magneto raised a hand, lowering his voice as he did so.

"Pietro, please. You're not well..."

"Of course I'm not! I'm forced to stay on American soil to do your dirty work while you cart my two sisters off to your self-described utopia! And I can't even be given a completely competent team as you stick me with a useless coward and only three other members! How is that meant to combat a man who could gut us all without dying, a girl who can turn intangible at the drop of a hat, a teleporting acrobat, a man who can send me flying across a city just by looking at me, a world-renowned biochemist and a woman who can conjure any form of weather she wants?"

This time his son left no gap for response, taking a quick breath and continuing straight on. By now, a vein in his head was becoming even more apparent and his blue eyes now resembled a glacier, cold and practically emotionless save for the hate that had now surfaced.

"For peace, for equality, for mutants! That's the slogan of your paradise, but for some reason your son picked the short straw and misses out on it all! Then again, after the times you set the MRD on me before you decided mutants needed a better anthill and sent the sentinels to burn your old one for you, I guess I'm glad! Glad that I know my father is only my father in the biological sense!"

By now Magneto was unconsciously backing away, desperately feeling for something metallic that he could use to force his son away. This time the punch connected with his face and he found himself hitting the door, wincing.

"Next time you speak to me; don't refer to me as your son!"

With that last word, Quicksilver pulled him away from the door, waited a moment for the now nervous Avalanche to pull it open and finally pushed the man he had once called his father out of the safehouse. The door then slammed shut, almost falling out of its frame from the force.

In that single moment, Magneto realised that it was too late to mend the damage he had inflicted to his son, and that Pietro was sadly right. In his visions of godhood and salvation, he had sadly lost the last few remaining ties to his offspring, and now that Lorna and Wanda had both disowned him for the recent attempts to provoke a war, there was nobody left that would care where he ended up the next day.

"The best laid schemes of mice and men go often askew,  
And leave us nothing but grief and pain,  
For promised joy..." He mournfully recited, and in the midnight moonlight a single tear slid down his face.

It would sadly be followed by many more to come.

**The Rasputin Farm, Russia**

Ilyana found herself shivering violently as the blizzard swept over the small farmland that she had called home for her entire life. She pulled the blanket tightly around her small, frail body, praying that the cold would relent and grant her family some peace, as well as for the safety of her parents who were trying to desperately earn money to send home. Her brother crouched over her, desperately but impossibly trying to stop the chill from ravaging her body.

If not for Piotr's return, Ilyana knew that her family would barely have made it through the first couple of days. Despite the initial help and prosperity that her brother had brought, the family had simply not been able to make enough money in comparison to the new hydroponics facility that the Russian government had been promoting for the last few months. Eventually the few farmhands that had not left for the cities had been let go, and even her brother's unnatural strength seemed to be fading now, partly from the depression that was coming with each hopeless day.

"Piotr, I thank you for your help, but you must get some rest. I cannot have you trying to shield me from the cold all evening."

Her brother refused to show whether he had understood what she said, standing as still as a statue.

"Brother, we cannot stay here for much longer. It is barely the beginning of winter, and we know that neither of us can withstand the cold for much longer. We must consider moving to the cities."

His eyes opened slightly in surprise. For her entire life Ilyana had been seeking every opportunity to avoid the cities, even going to the length of accidentally falling in the livestock manure once. It had been a strong aspect of her younger personality. Now she was willing to venture into a city if it meant survival, despite the risk of the pair of them being discovered.

"Ilyana, has the freezing weather warped your sense of logic? The last thing that we need at this time is another angry mob headed in our direction. And if the mob doesn't get us, the government will end up sending their own version of the Mutant Response Division our way. I may be indestructible, but that doesn't mean I can fight off every single member of the Russian government that comes my way."

Ilyana sighed. "At least you can hurl a couple of corrupt politicians through the window."

Piotr did not smile at his sister's joke, too contemplating of the situation. Did he wish to compromise his family's security and risk his status as a mutant being discovered, or did he desire keeping his younger and frailer sister alive and well?

His trail of thought was disrupted by a repeated thumping on the door, and he urged Ilyana to hide behind something. She slowly did so, coughing slightly along the way. Carefully approaching the door, he subconsciously prepared to transform in the event of trouble and pulled it open.

"This is the residence of the Rasputin's, is it not?"

The man who stood before them stood at an imposing height, with a coat that barely fit, as well as a hat that was pulled down tight and sunglasses that didn't seem to suit him. His pale skin seemed to shine in the near total darkness, and there was something resembling a goatee on his chin.

In a single moment, Piotr transformed out of sheer panic. Despite the disguise, it was obvious as to who had chosen to enter their household. A man such as this always carried an air of superiority, and the smugness was still detectable despite the fact most of his face was obscured by the sunglasses and the pulled down hat.

"Ilyana, RUN!"

Now as Colossus, Piotr swung at his opponent, pulling his right fist back as if ready to punch forward. His opponent ducked as expected, only to collide with his knee. Despite the injury, Sinister rose up with the smugness still on his face.

"What are you so amused about?"

"Did you really take me as stupid enough to try assaulting your house on my own?"

In that moment, Colossus felt the impact as a pair of adamantium wings collided with his chest, and he looked up to see a vaguely recognisable face staring at him in a cold and emotionless manner. Even with the modifications, it was horrifyingly obvious.

"Warren?"

"The man you know as Warren Worthington the Third is no longer able to acknowledge that he existed. Now all that remains is a secondary personality that he refers to as Archangel. Completely loyal to the Marauders and more capable in combat than Angel ever was," the scientist coolly remarked.

As soon as his master finished speaking, Archangel's wings expanded to reveal dozens of sharp blades, and Colossus narrowly dodged out the way of the first swoop. This unfortunately left him completely unprepared for the return strike, and he suppressed a grunt of pain as one blade slashed across his shoulder.

"I also forgot to mention he's considerably more ruthless."

Preparing to ascend a second time, Archangel descended once again, and this time Colossus made no effort to dodge. Instead, he picked up the nearest object available and slammed it in Archangel's face. In this case, it was Sinister, and his servant barely withdrew the blades in time to prevent him impaling his master as they both fell. Taking advantage of the distraction, Colossus grabbed both his wings, using his own weight to prevent his opponent rising. As he felt his former friend trying to rise, he reluctantly but firmly dealt several punches to the back of his head, seemingly giving him mild concussion.

"Not so strong when you can't use the air to your advantage, are you, Archangel?"

"Once again, Piotr, you seem to have lost several IQ points since we last met. Or is desperation kicking in now that you've realised we might be after your sister, who cannot actually get very far in the cold? Telling her to run can't be good for her physical condition."

Colossus immediately released his opponent and tried to reach the farmhouse, only to feel a sudden sense of dizziness and nausea threatening to overcome him. Tapping into the willpower Charles Xavier had revealed to him, he attempted to rush forwards and push into the house, only for an incredibly muscular man to block his path and slam into him chest first, causing him to stagger. Before he could completely regain his balance, a third man slammed his hands together and the resulting seismic wave sent him sprawling before the muscular lackey jumped on top of him, landing with his midsection.

Now unable to fight back, Colossus felt Sinister's fingers grabbing hold of his head and forcing it up. His hands were smooth and cold, just like the skin of a dead snake.

"Believe it or not, Piotr, I was actually going to talk to your family on civil terms, though seeing as you were the first to raise a fist my way I believe I now have the excuse of self defence." Despite everything that happened, Sinister was still acting as if the two were an arguing parent and child.

Colossus growled for a second, seeing yet another of Sinister's henchmen march through what was now left of the farmyard with his sister being dragged along reluctantly. As the man walked out, two others followed, completely identical to the first and similarly equipped with stun guns. For a second, the man pinning him down struggled to contain him before he felt a second wave of nausea.

"Quit the nice guy act, Sinister. I haven't got time for your games, and if you think that you can touch a hair on Ilyana's head, you'd better be sure that you don't care about me kicking you into the ground."

There was nothing but mild tutting.

"Piotr, please. I'm sorry we had to settle our differences through a fistfight with my Marauders, but there is still a chance for post-conflict diplomacy. In any case, as Blockbuster is presently keeping you occupied, you may as well listen, for there is an added benefit to you and your family."

As if to show his point, he gestured to the lackey who seemed to have cloned himself, and the two clones guarding Ilyana seemed to merge straight back into the first, dropping their weaponry as they did so. The man was wise enough to leave his hand off Ilyana, but still kept a careful eye on her.

"I simply ask that you hear me out, Piotr. I promise that we shall inflict no further damage on your household, or to your sister."

Taking the pause as his cue, Sinister began...

**After enough consideration, I decided I would leave the chapter there. Submit any criticism (or hopefully praise) you may have in a review, but in the case of criticism please make it constructive and polite.**

**This has drained me so far, I hope you have had a good time reading.**


	2. A deal near the Red Dawn, Part 2

**A/N: Cheers for the alerts and the review, people. Here comes chapter two.**

**Also, "MrJoker0" or something along those lines, I cannot actually reply to your review as you seemed to review anonymously, so you need to log in for that to happen should you review later (which you hopefully will).**

*******

"I'm assuming that you and your family do not have direct access to regular news updates through the television or the newspapers for this, so forgive me if I sound a little patronising." Despite the words, Sinister sounded completely unapologetic for anything.

"Get on with it," the now normal Piotr hissed.

"Patience, Piotr. We need to make sure all the pieces of the puzzle are uncovered before too long, otherwise you shall miss the prize." A small pause, as if Sinister was enjoying delaying all the information. "Alright. In a matter of mere hours, the former KGB supersoldier known as Arkady Rossovich, or Omega Red if you want use his codename, will be in the process of a transfer to a maximum security prison. Unfortunately, the prison systems in this country do not run as efficiently as they do back in America. In this case, the desire of the guards to listen more to the promises of money than their superiors will result in Rossovich breaking out and wreaking havoc on everything in the radius of several miles."

Piotr frowned.

"This is the middle of the countryside. We haven't got any prisons nearby."

"Indeed you don't. However, after the resulting devastation the survivors of Omega Red's attack will demand that documentation be released regarding him, and it will reveal his genetic status as a mutant. Once that is done, the country will rapidly devolve and be submerged in a wave of anti-mutant hysteria. Further documents will be unwillingly leaked regarding the lists of known mutants, and when it does, let's just say you may as well prepare your funerals early. You may not have any prisons nearby, Piotr, but believe me, when the documentation is released you'll certainly have several mobs headed this way."

Both brother and sister analysed the man standing before them. Sinister had been talking about the breakout of an infamous, Cold War-era mass murderer casually enough to begin with, but he had since moved on to discuss the potential genocide of all mutants in Russia as if he was discussing the release of a new film. It wouldn't surprise either of them if they found him casually watching events like these from the safety of his laboratory and writing data down as if this was a casual experiment. And perhaps in several ways, it was to him, considering he would likely be the one bribing the guards and leaking the last set of documents.

"You're hardly warning us out of the goodness of your heart. I'm aware of what people like you do, Sinister. Now tell me, what do you want from us?"

"Excuse me?" Sinister held his hand to his chest, trying to feign surprise at his opponent's accusation. "I have no desire for my own motives to be fuelled at the minute, Piotr. So for once I have decided that out of whatever altruism I possess, I will save at least part of the Rasputin family. You may doubt my motives, but that is of no interest to me, and it certainly isn't going to stop the angry mobs from torching what is left of your farmhouse. So make your mind up soon, Rasputins, or else the words red dawn shall have a completely different meaning for you."

With those last words, Sinister and his Marauders slammed their fists down onto their chest, triggering their teleportation devices and disappearing in a flash of crimson light. The only signs that they had ever been there were a pair of discarded stun guns and the now mostly collapsed building.

"He lies like a snake, Piotr."

"All the same, I doubt he was bluffing about Rossovich's breakout or the sudden backlash that's going to spread around. I think our decision about moving has been made for us."

Ilyana's eyes widened.

"But our parents... they don't know where we are... we may never see them again."

She helplessly looked up as her brother held back a tear.

"If the whole country will soon know we are mutants, it is better they do not. They can't suffer because of us anymore."

Ilyana was the first to break down, and for several minutes the mighty Colossus could do nothing but join in.

Back at the temporary Marauders base that Sinister had set up in the ruins of an old factory, Vertigo stared at her boss with a look of contempt.

"Let me get this straight, boss. You wanted to try a diplomatic approach to the Russian, so you tell us to hold back and don't call any of us in until you are getting your butt handed to you on a platter. Why didn't you anticipate this?"

"On the contrary, Vertigo. I anticipated the attack completely, but on that occasion I was trying to get through urgent negotiations diplomatically. Just because we can use brute force doesn't mean that I should be forced to use it as early as possible. You'll have a chance to deal with your psychotic urges later on in the plan."

Blockbuster lumbered over to join them, towering over both of them, despite the fact he was forced to crouch in the room they stood in.

"I hate to disagree with you, boss, but I think it would have been quicker if one of us told him. Like the Angel perhaps."

Sinister felt his patience being pushed, and for once he decided to let his anger out. Even though he wasn't raising his voice, a shroud of silence fell over all the other Marauders.

"Listen, all of you. The only one of you besides me who was competent enough to avoid capture was Archangel. Now I've rescued you because you all have talents I can use in my plan, but if you think that doesn't make you expendable, you can return straight to the MRD prisons, and I won't be rescuing you again. It's simply a waste of resources and my time, the biggest crime to science and my studies. Or if you don't fancy the MRD, my master may possibly be able to spare a few words with you all. _Understand_?"

All the Marauders besides Archangel gave hurried nods and quickly fled the room. The last remaining member simply looked up, unsure how to react to his master's outburst. Should he risk the potentially lethal retribution of thanking his master for saying he was competent, or simply question on a further plan of action?

Sinister looked up to see Archangel standing as still as a statue, his expression harder to read than normal.

"I sense something is troubling you, Archangel. Are your new modifications impairing your combat ability?"

A simple shake of the head was the answer.

"Is it really going to happen? Is Rossovich really going to be broken out of a Russian jail?"

Sinister raised an eyebrow in confusion, not so much as to his answer but more to the question that had been raised.

"Of course. I don't exactly have any plans to pull back on the deal. Besides, it helps the Rasputins with the making of certain decisions. From what we were able to overhear it is likely that they were contemplating a return to the United States. As for the final set of documents leaking, that has taken a little longer than previously expected due to a slight problem with the finances, delaying the entire operation."

"Slight problem?" The words from Archangel came completely devoid of emotion, and his face was still unreadable. Sinister smiled inwardly, remarking at the design he had sculpted on Warren Worthington's face.

"I have been paying an operative for a few weeks to attempt to infiltrate the Russian government and check the documents are there in time for the breakout's aftermath. He has since raised the price, claiming that he has come close to detection several times in the last few days. Obviously this wasn't acceptable, so I have since had to send a few hired guns his way and fund their ongoing hunt for him. Finally I have had to dispatch a more reliable person in to finish the job quickly; even then they were using borrowed time as the guards at Rossovich's original facility were growing impatient, not to mention concerned for their lives. That is something that even the promise of money was barely suppressing."

Sinister realised his rant had gone on for too long, and he quietly unclenched his fists.

"Like I said, a slight problem. The documents are ready to leak in a matter of days. By then, Piotr and Ilyana will have left the farmhouse and made a break for the cities, doubtlessly willing to take any methods they can to get out of Russia and onto American soil. They won't be able to escape our watch without attracting much attention."

Archangel nodded in agreement.

"Rasputin may be trying to contact the X-Men. With their available technology and contacts, they may be his best hope at leaving the country unnoticed."

"Under normal circumstances, I would agree with you. However, after their most recent battle with the Inner Circle and Magneto, the jet was destroyed in the chaos and thus it will take the X-Men considerably longer to get here. They'll also lose the element of stealth if they do. No, the X-Men will not be a factor in our plans this time around."

"How can we be sure? We considered them a nonfactor last time and they still intervened. The mission was by all rights a near failure."

Sinister froze where he stood, expecting a wave of rage to wash over him, though instead he was staying calm, with his heartbeat beating at the same speed and his blood pressure roughly the same.

"We still succeeded in our ultimate purpose in our previous mission, though admittedly the final stage could have gone a little more painlessly. I have made certain to keep known contacts of the X-Men occupied, and as for the X-Men themselves, they can rely on a surprise headed their way in due course."

The man clung against the wall, his hair blowing in the poorly insulated prison cell and a loaned inhibitor collar around his neck to prevent him from escaping. His area of confinement had not seen an architectural redesign for what probably amounted to a few decades, and it showed. His bed was on the verge of breaking, doubtlessly having been used by many more before his arrival. The place was, even by prison standards, a nightmare, which was probably why he had been stuck in here. Even with the nearly dead lightbulb in his cell, his pale skin would still make him stand out for several miles.

Rossovich growled as he heard the sound of footsteps down the darkened corridor, noting that it was impossible to know who exactly was coming down it until they reached his door. He then remembered that it was the time that dinner was given to his own wing of his prison, and his suspicions immediately went towards one of the younger prisoners attempting to shave a few years off their sentence. They were young and impressionable, as well as being easy to scare. He made no further noise, but his mind managed to force a sadistic smile onto his face despite his condition.

"Ahh... dinner time," he muttered, followed by a deep chuckle. "Delivered to me as a result of special privileges." This itself was followed by another chuckle, longer this time and followed by a clanging against the door. He looked down in the poor lighting to see a plate and cup being passed through on a fragile tray.

"Shut up and eat up, scum. This is the only meal you'll get for the next several hours, so be sure to treasure it." The familiar voice of Warden Althukov echoed through the otherwise empty wing. The man had once worked for the Russian military, and while he claimed that the only prisoner on his wing didn't scare him, his otherwise iron personality had since given way to a mind now dominated by fear.

"That's presumably your way of telling me to enjoy whatever the maggots weren't able to eat yet," he replied back through the bars.

"Sorry, our country doesn't exactly offer gourmet to convicted mass murderers such as yourself."

Any further words that the warden had planned to say died in his throat as more noise came from the prisoner's cell.

"And in that one sentence, you have contradicted yourself, warden. In the few papers that I have an occasional opportunity to steal from you, I see men from my old days in the KGB have since ascended to positions as Russia's leaders, yet their combined body count likely eclipses mine. It is admittedly a narrow comparison with barely any difference in statistics, but the point still stands. Even you yourself have been forced to shed blood at one stage or another in your old military career."

The war veteran was evidently eager not to make conversation tonight. "Now enjoy your beans before the van arrives for transfer. I'll certainly be eager to enjoy your absence from this facility."

The giant merely shook his head and tutted.

"Our conversation isn't over yet, warden. I've managed to find out who's on escort duty for the journey to the new holding facility. You're on the list. Now how did they phrase the description of you? Ah, yes. The only man not to have cracked from the psychological analysis of Rossovich, Arkady thus far in this prison's history."

Althukov immediately felt himself preparing to run away from the cell, simply hoping that his mind would not numb itself with the sheer horror.

"That shall be rapidly revisited during our final talk, Althukov, mark my words."

The warden shot away from the cell at surprising speed; the only way he managed to suppress his scream was with the knowledge that not doing so would only fuel his interrogator's desire to torture him further. All Arkady Rossovich could do was sit back and laugh, for what else was there for him to do?

***

**OK, after much debate with my own mind I have decided the chapter will just conclude here for now, as that way I can at least guarantee that you have something to read while I am busy returning to school.**

**While I have quite a few ideas more or less in concrete, I am open to suggestions. However, this does not mean I will put everything through to the finished story, so please don't rage at me if your idea doesn't make it through straight away. There is a chance I am simply writing on it later, and even if I'm not, it's sometimes better to make do. Thanks for reading all!**


	3. A deal near the Red Dawn, part 3

**A/N: Once again hello and good day to you! Hoping that you are all having a good time reading, and please give constructive feedback if you haven't done so already. I will now briefly take the time to apologise for the delay, but exams loom closer and closer and my desktop has keeled over and died. For this reason expect delays in me responding to any reviews as I can't access my emails.**

**Also, if I continue to get annoying messages from people who clearly know that you cannot get a reply as an anonymous reviewer, anonymous reviews will be disabled. Rant over.**

* * *

The X-Men stood assembled by the Danger Room, tightly assembled and still clearly licking their wounds from the final fight against the Inner Circle. Beast stood at more of a hunch than normal, Forge was being forced to support himself on a cabinet while his bionic leg began a slow repair of itself. Jean was still confined to the medical room, claiming that her energy seemed to come and go without any notice, while Cyclops tried to avoid wincing from the chest injury he had acquired in the battle's climax.

"X-Men, as I'm sure you're aware, the recent few months have been a trialling ordeal for us as a team. However, we've proven ourselves able to unite despite the fact that Professor Xavier is twenty years in the future. It's this ability that doubtlessly saved our hides, but we cannot rest on our achievements for too long. We must choose a new course of action to pursue, particularly in the wake of Emma Frost's apparent death. Hank, if you would present the others with our ideas."

Beast nodded, limping forwards slightly as he did so.

"The loss of Emma Frost leaves us with the problem of not having a reliable operator of Cerebro. Obviously, Jean is a capable operator, but due to her present condition we would have no option but to rule her out. In normal circumstances I would be content to let her rest and recuperate, but as you are all aware nothing can really be defined as normal for any of us in this room. Jean must be placed on active duty as quickly as possible, by any reasonable means I can find."

The group reluctantly gave an understanding nod at the statement, before Beast continued.

"Until Jean is fully active for her duty, we need to be more reliant on other news sources. So I've come up with some rough blueprints of a device that would allow us to hack into MRD and SHIELD frequencies and acquire intel the same time they do. It's not as ideal as Cerebro, but we can't really pick and choose at this time. If I can acquire your help later on, Forge, it would be appreciated."

Iceman raised an eyebrow.

"Won't your SHIELD pals get a bit ticked if you end up interfering into their personal business?"

Wolverine snorted.

"It's never stopped them hiring me for the janitor work," he growled. "And in this case, it's a desperate measure for a desperate time."

Forge shook his head.

"Oh, brother... I wish there was a different phrase we could associate with ourselves. Every time we take one of those measures we keep on having to take even bigger measures. It's escalation, pure and simple."

"This time we mean it, Forge. If I had any other option, I wouldn't be doing this."

"Again with the catchphrases..."

Wolverine ignored his teammate, pushing forwards with preparation.

"Until we come up with further data reports from whatever we have left, our next priority is stopping the Inner Circle's telepaths from escaping American custody. The five of them are strong enough to summon the Phoenix Force- alone they are still formidable. For all we know, they may be planning some sort of comeback on behalf of their bosses."

"And if they aren't?"

The Canadian shrugged, muscles rippling underneath his costume.

"Still thinking about that one." A pause as several of the X-Men tried guessing what he meant, before he nodded to dismiss them.

"Meet at the Danger Room in a few hours. Until then, just stay on your toes."

After the team's acting leader left the area, Iceman raised an eyebrow in slight disdain.

"He's starting to lose it, I can tell."

Rogue frowned slightly at him, hands beginning to remove her gloves.

"And since when were you made team psychiatrist?"

"The day he was made leader, Rogue. Let's think about this a sec. Our chain of command is completely screwed, and he's not as happy in the position of leader. I think that he feels that he needs to keep the team moving after the last couple of days. Not to say I blame him, but I think the pressure's soon going to kill him."

**A short one here, but one to just bring the series back to existence for a short while. Please don't rage, I am very busy.**

**While on the subject, there is a Facebook page called "1 Million to Save Wolverine and the X-Men". It's exactly what it says on the tin and it presently has about 15,000 members, so a long way to go. Just type it in the search bar and click the like button. It has some user on here promoting it as well, but to be honest I've no idea who. So yeah... Facebook users get clicking! If there's no other incentive for you, they do host a lot of pics and trailer links. **


	4. A deal near the Red Dawn, part 4

Wolverine and the X-Men, Season 2, Chapter 4

**The next morning**

**Near Moscow, Russia**

Piotr and Ilyana Rasputin sat on the worn down leather seat at the back of the bus, the latter wincing as the transport went over the odd speed bump along the road. Both wore thick winter coats, and on Ilyana it looked comically oversized on her small and thin body. In contrast, Piotr's coat barely seemed to cover him and he shuddered as a chill rushed through his body. He noted with a sense of mild depression that the heating for the bus had broken down, seeing most others thickly clad in old coats and hats that would have looked out of place anywhere else in the world.

He turned to Ilyana, trying to put an arm around her in comfort. However, the only response he got in turn was her shuddering even further. As much as she would have liked to give him some reassurance, she simply didn't have enough energy to try, and he felt her fall asleep on his shoulder. He sighed, envious that she could fall asleep at a time like this. Just as he thought of trying to do so himself, another chill came down from the front of the bus and forced his eyes back open.

The next hour of the bus journey was relatively uneventful, with the only real things of interest being a small group of soldiers marching, followed by a figure of authority of some form. Piotr didn't recognise them at first glance, having not seen a newspaper for a short while now, but later seemed to recognise them as a member of the Winter Guard. The name of the person still escaped him, but Piotr simply hoped the two would not end up needing to cross paths. A fight was the last thing he needed here, particularly if Ilyana could end up in harm's way. He simply held his breath and waited for the drill to pass by before he dared look back up.

The bus suddenly began slowing down before stopping altogether, causing a loud groan of dismay from the front as Ilyana's eyelids flew open. Listening closely, they both heard the bus driver mutter in a mixture of confusion and anger before the door opened and he climbed down to see what the problem was. Hearing a loud amount of shouting from both the driver and two other men, the words "Winter Guard" and "Rossovich" were unmistakably clear.

Piotr's eyes widened in terror as he looked out the side, seeing a man clad in a large and heavily-equipped suit of armour, an athletic warrior carrying a shield while dressed in red and white, a person resembling a Siberian tiger, and a woman dressed in a mostly dark costume who was hovering a few feet off the ground. Beside them, he saw dozens of Russian soldiers, many heavily armed. At the forefront was a giant bear, seeming to sniff the air in an attempt to track somebody. Despite the slightly comical appearance it may have had compared to the giant suit of armour, the others were wise enough to give it a wide berth.

Loud murmurs spread through the bus.

"Dear lord, it's the Winter Guard! But why are they here?"

The questions seemed to continue, before they were finally cut off by the sound of very heavy winter boots. When the noise stopped, two burly soldiers stood at the front of the bus, rifles to their sides.

"Alright, this is a search! Everybody off the bus!"

**Ten hours ago**

Arkady Rossovich cackled wildly as he heard the footsteps approaching his cell.

"Alright, you monster. We've got your escort ready. Now don't try anything, you know we have your inhibitor collar activated."

"I have no plans to do so, Althukov. Just unlock the door and I'll come quietly." His tone was sarcastic and mocking, showing that even if he wasn't going to hurt his warden physically, he would certainly enjoy harassing him verbally.

The cell door opened slowly, revealing ten armed guards alongside Althukov, who was carrying a pistol himself. Even with the collar on, the warden and his escort knew that he was trained in multiple forms of unarmed combat. If he broke free of his restraints, he could easily knock most of them unconscious -or worse if he felt so inclined- and then take the collar off if he survived the subsequent shooting. The weapons were mainly there for reassurance, and most of the guards were shuddering, their weapons held too unsteadily for proper combat. Althukov was scared himself, though unlike the others he made an effort to at least try and hide it.

"Come on, we're going now."

Rossovich stepped forwards, feeling a shock as his arms were paralysed by some large handcuffs. After this, the soldiers raised their weapons and forced him to march down the long and dark corridor. The empty wing of the prison echoed only with his heavy footsteps, and the slightly lighter ones of the guards, with the occasional clatter of their weapons sounding not far behind. He kept walking forward through the gates and finally into the prison van, which was surrounded by an armoured personnel carrier and three police cars, each containing at least three armed officers. He saw the faint light from the prison reflect onto the barrel of two sniper rifles just before he was forced into the back of the van.

The first hour or so of the journey was relatively unremarkable, an eerie silence filling the cold and bitter air that filled the van. Several times, the prisoner felt the van try to accelerate in a futile manner, and he could sense their desire to get rid of him and forget all the painful memories he had caused them. A smile flashed across his face as the memories returned to him, flashing by year by year.

_There in front of him stood a young man, no older than twenty at the most. The man trembled in fear, his clothes covered in mud and sweat and a look of terror deep in his eyes. In contrast, the rest of his face had simply lost all expression, his mind numbing itself from shock and disbelief. His eyes widened subconsciously as the tentacle flew towards his head, then rolled twice and saw no more as the tentacle withdrew. A second man rushed up to him in blind panic, firing wildly and missing most of his shots. The ones that hit glanced off his carbonadium tentacles harmlessly. With no effort Omega Red turned around and sent the man into the air with an uppercut, followed by a thump._

_The man lay prone near him, and gradually he started convulsing as Red began to suck his life force out his body. More bullets went his way and he rolled out the way before making a jump towards them, a bloodthirsty grin on his face._

_Then the scene changed to an idle and cold city that he seemed to remember from some time ago, warmed only by the burning fire a few miles away from the centre. Not far away from it, he remembered tentacles flying indiscriminately around the area, hitting flesh, concrete or metal with no regards to the consequences. And then the men like _him_ had advanced. One was clad in a gold suit of body armour, the next clad in a dark blue trench coat with feral hair at shoulder length. To the left of them was a slightly shorter but more agile man dressed in black. Two tentacles went towards him and he rolled underneath the first before he raised his arms. _

_The tentacle stopped abruptly with a sudden force, and Red noticed six metal-covered claws that were preventing him dealing a blow to his skull. The man moved away and another tentacle pounded the pavement where he had been standing milliseconds before. In the brief moments it was stuck, he realised he had forgotten the other combatants as an electric current flowed through his tentacles and into his body. The gold clad one was wielding a large stun weapon, and as Red recovered from the shock the largest of the three jumped forward and kicked him in the abdomen. The shock flowed through his body again and he growled in irritation, tentacle lashing out and knocking the stun weapon to the floor._

"_Such weapons are surely below one such as yourself, aren't they?" he mockingly asked as a second blow slammed into his enemy._

"_Yeah," the man grunted as he painfully got up. "But this isn't."_

_A powerful punch hit his solar plexus, and he roared in pain. It was as if the punch had been fuelled with the energy of an exploding star. Stumbling wildly, he felt the short one climb onto him and headbutt him repeatedly with extreme force. In between flashes of red and white and sharp feelings of pain, he saw the man's face. The hair was wild and animalistic, the facial features making no attempt to conceal the sheer fury in his face._

_Two tentacles to the ribcage forced his attacker off, by which point the armoured one rushed forwards and struck his foot into the ground repeatedly. The tallest of the three slashed at his tentacles in an attempt to keep him distracted, and it finally seemed to work when another powerful kick struck his face. His vision blurred, coming into focus as the smaller one leaped into the air, claws bared and about to slash down._

_The last thing he saw before he blacked out was an explosion and the three of his opponents being knocked backwards, though the small one now had his limited attention. The black hair, the furious face..._

And with the end of that flashback, Arkady Rossovich snapped back to the present. He felt his fists attempt to tighten as his teeth bared, his heartbeat now galloping along with the memory. Then his mind spiralled downwards, submerged in anger and a primal desire for revenge. The desire grew so strong that he failed to notice one of his tentacles breaking free and denting the inside of the van. He was only snapped back to attention with the loud click of three rifles. His eyes drifted over to the dent in the side, and his mouth slowly spread into a nightmarish grin, made worse by his virtually lifeless face.

"What a shame. Your collar seems to be broken."

The instant he finished speaking, the tentacles spiralled out and slammed into his guards. The one that hadn't panicked found his rifle shots firing through the roof. Omega Red lunged forwards, pummelling the last remaining officer. To his credit, he barely screamed and tried to let off another shot in his direction before he was knocked unconscious. The driver was next as Red's tentacle slammed violently into his spine. The van swerved violently, but by this point the prisoner had jumped free, a savage and inhuman grin on his face with a looted sidearm now in a pocket of his trousers. As he landed on his feet, the van tumbled down the hill and stopped with a sudden crunch as it violently collided with a car.

By this point, the escort had realised what was wrong and the APC turned around, rotating its turret. Unflinching, Red simply smirked and ran forwards, rolling underneath the gunfire and climbing on the top. At this point it promptly reversed as fast as its engine would allow it, but their attacker had too firm a grip to be shaken, and the external armaments were promptly ripped off and discarded. Having dealt with one hazard he was finally shaken off, and he hit the ground. At this stage he rolled out of the way of the APC as it attempted to crush him with its tyres. As he did so his tentacles ripped out the wheel guards, and when he rose he was holding the weapon in his hands expertly, biding his time.

Stupidly, the vehicle went around for a second run and this time found itself with three tyres shot out. The vehicle skidded to a halt, and before the soldiers could jump out and take aim, the side doors were promptly smashed in. Several bullets came from the firing ports, but by this stage there was little that could be done to stop him.

With the APC and its troops incapacitated for the time being, Red ran for the police cars and slowed himself, taking a deep breath between each shot as he put a bullet into the wheels of the cars. As he stopped he saw the terrified and haggard features of Warden Althukov. Calmly strolling through the inaccurate small arms fire, he found himself staring the terrified official in the face.

"Tell me, Warden," Omega Red grinned, the Warden hanging limply in the grip of his tentacles. "Did your commanding officers ever forgive you for the incident in Afghanistan?"

A pause as Althukov weakly struggled against him, then he continued.

"Or has your mind numbed itself from the shame?"

"I don't... know... what you're talking about..."

The reply was devoid of any strength, and Red instantly saw through the lie. He smugly shook his tentacles, and Althukov weakly groaned.

"Then here's a memory refresher. In 1982 your brigade was instructed to hold a blockade against the resistance fighters until key members of the KGB were in place. For a while your brigade held the blockade and sent the enemy running thanks to the command of your officer. Then your ordnance misfired, destroying your heavy support and allowing demolition teams to get close. As things became more desperate your commanding officer shouted for no retreat or surrender, failing to realise that plans had changed and that officials were now in a safer area. As I recall your radio operator lay dead at the side of the road."

The warden was struggling to rationalise the story he was being told, trying so hard to think of a logical explanation, but none of it made sense. Rossovich couldn't have been there... could he?

"When you saw your friend run off as the barricade was hit by RPG fire, he forced a weapon close to your head and threatened him and you. Do you remember what happened next?"

Althukov grunted as he kicked out in anger and pain, just before the words finally began to flow, and he realised that Red would mention it if he didn't.

"At the tribunal, I was next to be dealt with, shortly after the officer was dragged away screaming. They accused me of murder, and penalised me for following orders when it would have made sense to disobey. After that, I was discharged dishonourably and left to rot in the gutter of a Siberian town."

Althukov spat in his face, but the gesture was casually ignored and he found himself staring at two red eyes, seemingly lifeless and empty of any positive emotion. His own eyes widened in horror as he realised that he'd done exactly what Rossovich had wanted.

He had well and truly been broken down into little more than a fragment of who he'd used to be. Now that his usefulness had been outlived, the Warden simply tried to force his eyes shut and block out the inevitable.

"Would Private Tretyak ever forgive you for what you did, if he had the chance?" The grin returned to his tormentor's face once more.

"Why don't you find out?"

And with that last line, a grin broke out on his face, and to Althukov it was many things, but most noticeably, it was happy in the most warped and depraved manner possible.

"You... ruined my life! As soon as I get back on my feet I swear to the heavens I am going to..."

With that, the warden's own scream cut him off as Omega Red began to drain the life from the helpless Warden. The kicking desperately increased as the man's adrenaline began flowing through his body in an attempt to get free, but it was all in vain as he slumped on the concrete. His heartbeat slowed as his breathing became more regular and desperate, and Red turned away to leave his victim to his fate.

Now walking with a slightly more upright stance, he leapt over the railing at the side of the road and began the long fall into the river, just as the soldiers finally got themselves free of the APC. Most of them managed to run across to the end and clamber up to a firing position, but the few shots that were fired his way missed and he winced as he slammed into the water.

Up above, the soldiers pulled away as they realised their target would soon be out of reach.

"Leave him! Rossovich won't have survived the fall!"

The officer attached to the unit scowled at the newest soldier to have joined them.

"I would have expected even a junior to be wiser than that, Ymerich. If he's survived what they rumoured during the Cold War, falling into a river will be like falling onto a carpeted floor for him. No, we radio our superiors and let them know that we have an escaped prisoner on the loose. After that we get medical support and gather up the wounded, then return to mobilise with the rest of our division."

At that moment, the squad stopped paying attention, their thoughts now on the tribunals they would all be sent to. The memories of the gulags all returned to the older ones, with the newer ones all cowering at the stories that had gradually been distorted with each retelling.

"Heaven help us all."

**Back in the present**

Taking advantage of the loud protests of the other passengers, Piotr kept his voice down and tried to cower behind the seat.

"Sinister lied to us! For all we know he leaked the documents early!"

"What difference does it make?" Ilyana hissed. "Even if he didn't, we have about four dozen men out there, with four or five superheroes all prepared to pound the first troublemaker they find!"

Any further discussion was once again silenced as one of the soldiers opened one of the bus windows. The passengers shuddered as a chill swept through them once again, and then almost jumped out of their seats when the soldier to the left carefully aimed his rifle through the window and fired a burst. This time, everybody stayed quiet.

"Everybody is to get off the bus immediately for an emergency search. These orders are from the Kremlin itself, and if you wish to complain, you may do so after an intense session of questioning! Now move!"

Slowly, and after the soldiers moved to let them aside, the passengers slowly and reluctantly shuffled out, giving some slight moans as they were forced back out into the cold. Piotr and Ilyana dragged themselves out with the crowd, keeping an eye open for any possible escape route they could.

The leader of the operation, an officer in a thick coat, walked forwards to address the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of the Kremlin I apologise for any inconvenience this interruption to the bus ride has caused. However, under orders from them myself and the Winter Guard are under obligation to search for a mutant accomplice to Arkady Rossovich, better known to most of you as Omega Red."

Piotr's eyes suddenly widened with panic and confusion. He'd been under the impression that several members of the Winter Guard were themselves mutants, though that fact was likely kept secret from the public and blamed on lab accidents. At the same time, however, he had to worry about the fact that they were searching for mutants. If they found him and Ilyana out, the crowd and combined forces of the Winter Guard and Russian military were certainly enough to stop them both in their tracks.

"As we have said, the accomplice was a mutant going by an alias. We regrettably have to search you all with loaned equipment from the MRD. They claim to have perfected a machine with the capability of detecting the mutant gene, and we need to take DNA samples from everybody here."

More groaning came from the crowd.

"We have no desire to interrupt your daily affairs, but we have no patience for objections in the circumstances. The quicker you cooperate, the quicker you may all board the bus again."

Piotr grew increasingly uneasy, and he felt himself tremble, fighting the urge to run and risk getting the pair of them killed. But as the disgruntled passengers formed a line and began passing the detector before they were let back onto the bus, he knew that if they so much as went near the detector they were as good as dead anyway. He had no options left, and he wasn't going to risk Ilyana's life to try and get away, not when there was so little to gain.

With a sigh, he reached down for his sister's hand, and she in turn reached up for his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Then an idea formed in his head, and he knew in all accounts it wasn't going to get Ilyana much further. Yet despite her weakened and starved state, he knew she had her capability for resourcefulness. Maybe this idea would work just enough to get her out of harm's way.

"Piotr, what's happening?"

He crouched down and whispered to her, making sure that nobody else could overhear.

"If we both go past at once, we'll both be arrested or worse. So instead of that happening, I'll go through first. There might be the possibility that there was just the one accomplice, so maybe if they just detect one, they'll stop and let everyone else go. For all I know they may be too prejudiced to search for every mutant. It's a long shot, but I can't shield you from all those soldiers and the Winter Guard."

She scowled at him, but mainly to hide the tears.

"Piotr, you can't. I've nobody to look out for me if you get arrested and taken away."

He sadly realised she was right and reached inside his pocket, producing a piece of paper and slipping it into her coat.

"Call that number from any phone you can reach. Give them the password written there and you'll get a line to the X-Men, they've reformed recently. If you give them a call they might be able to find you here. After that, I've no idea what will happen. But you'll be in safe hands."

Ilyana sadly nodded, the tears no longer hidden behind the scowl. Her arms went around her brother's big frame once again, and he returned the gesture, realising this could be the last time.

"Get a move on! You're holding up the line!"

Piotr reluctantly rose and steeled his heart. It was his role as the strong one to try and make sure she survived, at any cost necessary. It was time to march forwards and face his fate, regardless as to where it led.

Before he could, however, an explosion landed a short distance from the bus.

"Marauders, seize the Rasputins!"

With that, the scattered soldiers began stumbling, as several of them were overcome by a sudden sense of dizziness and nausea. That was when Blockbuster leaped forwards and gradually progressed forwards through the tide of Russian soldiers, a bloodthirsty blur on a stampede through a large horde of brittle army men. The soldiers attempted to fire while they wrestled with their sudden ailments, only to discover that their efforts to fight back were in vain against such a powerful foe.

Then with that stage conquered, the Marauders turned their attention to the last few soldiers who had somehow managed to overcome the nausea, as well as the members of the Winter Guard who were standing in their way. The attackers strolled forward with Vertigo leading them, as if walking down a red carpet in the middle of an awards ceremony. This fight was as good as theirs, and they wanted to make sure the Russian military knew it was outmatched despite the superior numbers and impressive uniforms. The civilians that hadn't yet keeled over from their sickness had their legs tripped up by the newest member, Riptide, or were brutally swatted aside by Blockbuster.

"That was your first and last warning, Winter Guard. Now hand over the pair of mutants we're after, or we're going to hand you all your heads on a platter." Vertigo was struggling to keep the pride out of her voice as she surveyed the area again. Behind her, Riptide was giggling incessantly, a long blade now in plain sight and barely held in its sheath. The soldiers raised their guns nervously and trained them on him.

"We took down your main force in a matter of minutes," the insane mutant cackled. "Think about what we could do in a whole hour."

At this, the bulkiest of the group turned around and shoved the sword-wielding lunatic into the snow.

"Shut up, Riptide. We've got business to finish here, not sport. That waits till we get stateside."

The bear, known locally as Ursa Major, stepped forwards with an angry growl.

"Are you amateurs finished? The Winter Guard has other pest control problems to deal with as well as you."

"Amateurs?" Blockbuster angrily growled. "We're the Marauders. We've kicked the X-Men around from Westchester to the middle of Nevada without batting an eyelid. Tell us why you're so special."

"_We're the Winter Guard,"_ interrupted the Crimson Dynamo._ "We've kicked everyone around and lived to tell the tale. You're nothing but a bloodstain on the wall compared to us."_

With that, the last soldiers reloaded their rifles, while Crimson Dynamo's final weapons finished their powering up and the Guard struck their usual pre-battle pose, designed to intimidate the enemy combatants. In turn, Blockbuster and Riptide let out their usual mix of pre-battle laughter and roaring, while Multiple Man began forming clones of himself and Vertigo steadied herself.

_Well, there goes handling this diplomatically,_ James Madrox mentally muttered to himself.

The first to move into the fray was inevitably Riptide, his sword already out of his sheath by the time he closed the distance between himself and the Red Guardian. The more disciplined Red Guardian forced himself to time his move just right as he aimed his shield just below the charging mutant's kneecaps and took his legs out from underneath him. Riptide skidded for several painful metres in the cold snow as the Multiple Man clones were next to make their move, picking up a few stun batons that had fallen out of an overturned crate before they charged at the assembled last line of Russian soldiers. The Guard all turned to focus on the next targets, before Riptide jumped back up and spun round violently, drawing in the startled Darkstar and Red Guardian with the use of his power. At this, Blockbuster charged towards Major Ursa, leaving Arclight and Harpoon against the Crimson Dynamo.

"_The Crimson Dynamo has fought bigger beings than you and left them crying on their knees, _

_weaklings..."_

Arclight responded by hitting his hands together violently, very briefly disrupting the targeting system of the power armour. Harpoon followed this up by raising his metal staff and using it to send a powerful electric shock through the suit, resulting in a very satisfying grunt of pain.

"_You shall pay for that!"_ growled Dynamo, raising his fist and swiping at both of them, missing by

During the start of the confrontation, Piotr and Ilyana realised there was little point remaining in the fight. The brawl was already heating up with frightening speed, and to stay around there would yield only fatal results. Both ran as fast as they were physically capable of doing so, but the younger of the two was starting to succumb to the cold and stumbled for a short while before her brother chose to carry her on his back. He realised now that their cover had been blown and that time was limited. Any contact they could establish with the X Men would have to be made soon, before Sinister used his seemingly endless resource pool to search for them. The longer they tried hiding, the sooner it would become the equivalent of shooting fish in a barrel.

The fighting still echoing through the now deserted streets, Piotr and Ilyana ducked through an alleyway and ran towards the nearest phone box they could find, praying they had found one that would actually work. Already both were desperately fumbling for change, hoping they had enough.

Both squeezed into the box as best as Piotr's giant form would allow them, and then waited as Ilyana frantically dialled the number.

"You have reached the line of the Xavier Project. Security programme alpha activated," droned the automated voice. "Voice recognition in progress."

"Please... pick up..." Ilyana heard the desperation in her brother's voice.

"Voice recognised as Piotr Rasputin, designation Colossus." There was a loud click, followed by a ping.

"Voice accepted. Transferring you to Westchester, New York."

Piotr sighed with relief and began speaking hurriedly.

"_Piotr, as glad as I am to speak with you again, could you please hurry up and let us know your problem? We kind of have one of our own directly at our doorstep." _The teenage voice and slightly flippant tone were easily identifiable, even on the poor quality phone and the battle noises still echoing through the streets.

"It is good to speak to you again, Bobby Drake!" For the first time in about three months, Ilyana saw a glimmer of happiness in her brother's eyes.

"_I appreciate that, but -_*bang*_- can you please get to the point?"_

"Sinister's been chasing us across Russia for the past couple of days. We've barely escaped his Marauders, and that's because they have the Winter Guard fighting them tooth and nail right now! We need a form of extraction and we need it soon!"

"_We can't fly over and fetch you; the X-Jet's been out of action for the past week! Don't know how much fighting stateside gets shown on your news channels!"_

Immediately, the glimmer of happiness started to disappear from her brother's eyes.

"There must be something you can do!"

"_Sorry, didn't exactly have the time to call in Mr Engineering Genius! He's been too busy repairing his prosthetic leg and working on bringing Cerebro back to full capacity. That's a heck of a job, even for him. Wolverine may have a contact or two nearby, see if there's a way to alert-"_

In the next three seconds, Ilyana realised that the sounds of intense battle had mostly faded out, with the exception of Crimson Dynamo's thrusters, presumably in pursuit of the Marauders withdrawing.

Another explosion noise from the other end of the line and whatever Bobby Drake was about to say was cut off, along with their connection.

"Considering Wolverine probably knows at least half of Russia that means there are at least seventy million possible contacts. We'd better get started if we want to do this before we die of old age."

The only answer Piotr got was a scream, followed by a pair of adamantium wings slowly starting to crush the booth they were both standing in. As much as both attempted to resist, their efforts were futile and the last things they saw were a pair of pale white eyes, completely devoid of emotion as he closed in for what seemed to be the kill.

* * *

**Hello, hello, and hello again!**

**First off, I owe anyone who bothered to read this again a serious apology- this story has been appreciated for a whole nine months, meaning an appalling four chapters in a year. I'm not going to say much apart from getting sidetracked by exams and going into the sixth form, I just forgot I was on the website. That was after I got fed up of my old Mary Sue fanfics (TV Tropes will help you out if you don't know what Mary Sue means) before I cut and rewrote half the chapter plans, clearly showing a lack of planning. But I digress, it is time to move on and continue writing once again.**

**Not much else to say apart from hoping that 2011 was a good year for you and let's hope 2012 proves an awesome year in its own right! With Transformers Prime returning and the Dark Knight's last film on the horizon there is no reason for it not to be. Any suggestions, leave them in the review section and no promises but I will see what I can accomplish. On a serious note, I have run into a mild form of writers block, in that I have no idea what to do with Magneto (who is dangerously close to the moral point of no return following the end of the actual show). See you later!**


	5. A deal near the Red Dawn, part 5

Wolverine and the X-Men Season 2: Chapter 5

**Three hours ago... Westchester, New York**

The X-Men lay huddled around a computer screen, showing a list of the presently missing or inactive recruits. Wolverine and Beast stood next to the computer, the former holding an old wooden pointer that he'd borrowed from one of the classrooms.

"Alright. I'd been hoping not to use this plan for too long, but this is basically a plan to bring back a few members of the X-Men who have gone AWOL who we can't contact."

"Wait, wait, wait," Kitty interjected. "You've had a plan to recruit more X-Men and you've not properly used it till now?"

"I was going to recruit Psylocke and Domino back into our ranks. Needless to say, the Brotherhood kinda ruined that and I'm not exactly keen to approach the issue right now. We all know that Piotr and Ilyana refused the invitation back the first time round and then didn't pick up the phone afterwards, and the Mardees have tried hacking our communications a few times. Their last troops may get a bit trigger happy if they hear we're doing recruitment."

Beast then cleared his throat in a somewhat ungraceful manner before he spoke.

"We've also got a weird signal that keeps trying to enter our communications frequency when we contact known former members. Every time we try to trace the call, our operating system freezes for an hour, then resets back to normal. We fear every time we try to discover who they are, they discover more about us. We've been forced to change the frequency and restrict communications until further notice."

Forge coughed in a loud and melodramatic manner.

"I apologise," Beast chuckled. "We're forcing Forge to change our frequency for us while we restrict communications."

Wolverine rolled his eyes and pressed a button on a remote, causing the presentation to move to the next slide and move to a map. The pointer moved from Westchester, New York and across the Atlantic, settling at a location in the British Isles.

"To get back to the point, I'm pulling in a few favours from some people I know. For the next few days, I'll be sending out a few members of us to make sure these deals are made and they help us get members of the X-Men back. The more we have to help the better."

"The first trip is with a SHIELD jet we've been loaned from the Helicarrier, and if possible we'll make it tomorrow. Pilots will be able to drop three volunteers off to Cardiff, Wales to check on the last known location of Megan Gwynn, codenamed Pixie, but after that we're on our own. Until we get any further notice, assume that the Blackbird won't be repaired until two days from now. Dismissed."

The X-Men filed out of the room, with the last to leave being Scott supporting a still somewhat frail Jean. Beast and Wolverine were left to close down the computer files and the map. The blue giant turned to face his shorter teammate, concern clearly etched on his face.

"Do you believe we have any hope of finding any former X-Men?"

The only answer Hank got at first was a clearly audible sigh, followed by Wolverine slumping to a chair.

"Want my honest answer, Hank? I think the only X-Men that have an honest chance of still being alive without working for a new employer would be old Peter and his sister. Considering that two members now on the mansion were headed for Genosha and only left because we proved we were working as a group again..."

The question hung in the air, but neither particularly wanted to ask it for fear of letting their imagination answer for them. Nevertheless, they found themselves speculating the status of every X-Man not presently in the mansion.

Both of the X-Men's members were so caught up in this that they failed to realise Nightcrawler had not quite been out of earshot, and was now standing in the middle of the doorway.

"I doubt that the X-Men who fled and remained in Genosha will have fallen victim to the Sentinel attack. The X-Men were trained by the finest mutants on the planet, led themselves by the best teacher and father figure known to the planet."

The pair looked up, both annoyed that their teammate had chosen to eavesdrop, and also surprised to hear such polite and pleasant words from him. Nightcrawler had never been the nasty one in the team, but this was oddly poetic even for him.

"Charles Xavier would be proud to know that his vision still lives on despite his present incapacitation. As we all should be."

With that, Kurt turned and walked away, missing the faint smile on Logan's face and the grin breaking out on Hank's.

"Only the elf could say something that cheesy and generic with a straight face."

"Not to mention make it _work_."

**A few minutes later, in the main lounge of the mansion**

The team lay sat around the television, with the exception of Wolverine who had opted for further training, as well as Forge and Beast working to get the X-Jet back up to full capacity.

"_In news related to Genosha, the acting leader, Wanda Maximoff, has declared that she will do her best to resume coordination and diplomacy with the United Nations, in particular the United States of America. Her first move has been to publicly exile the accused perpetrator of the Sentinel invasion, known mostly by his moniker "Magneto", from the island. His current whereabouts are unknown and the public are being warned not to approach him under absolutely any circumstances."_

"How stupid does somebody have to be to approach a man who attempted an invasion of the United States with an army of Sentinels?"

For his flippant comment, Bobby got a loud hush from a half-asleep Tildie Soames as well as several death glares hurled his way and a light punch in the shoulder from Rogue.

"_Despite the efforts of Wanda Maximoff to restore the status of Genosha and the relationship it has with the rest of the world, the mutant haven still has a long way to go before it returns to its former glory. This is Gregory Stewart signing off for CNN, now back to Anna Males in the studio."_

The video feed then cut back to the studio, at which point Tildie picked up the remote and changed the channel to a couple of badly animated cartoons. Scott gave a sigh and reached to change back to the news, only for Tildie to wriggle away with the remote in her right hand. This continued for a minute until she finally fell asleep and Kitty was forced to escort her to bed. Immediately, the television switched back to the news, showing the cleanup of the last major battle that they had been involved in.

Just as the worker was about to interview some of the injured civilians, a loud klaxon sounded throughout the mansion, followed by a monotone voice.

_Caution. Unrecognised aircraft is approaching the mansion._

If anybody had been talking through the klaxon, they were certainly shutting up by now.

_Type of aircraft noted as Mil Mi-17 transport helicopter. Armaments include a mounted light machine gun and a missile launcher. Currently transporting a cargo crate. Danger rating of moderate assigned. Records show aircraft was originally property of the Russian military. Current owner unknown._

Every person in the Mansion immediately snapped to alert, followed shortly afterwards by the sound of Wolverine's voice over the Intercom.

"All X-Men are to report to battle stations immediately. Kitty, getting Tildie to safety is your responsibility. Storm and Iceman, we need you to take it down quickly! The longer that thing's in the air, the more danger the mansion is in! Forge, get to the defensive centre and get there quickly- the jet will have to wait!"

The X-Men were well drilled in this scenario, having been forced to rehearse it many times before in early morning training. As Iceman started to skate across the ice bridge he was starting to build, Storm took to the air, arms raised in an effort to summon stronger winds. Within moments, the helicopter was starting to lose altitude as the main missile launchers were soon covered by ice. The machine gun began firing erratically as the pilot seemed to be losing his focus, though the threat was quickly neutralised by another ice blast from Iceman. Shortly afterwards, the virtually paralysed machine collapsed upon the ground, crashing violently as it did so.

Nightcrawler was next to enter, teleporting next to Iceman and righting his balance to slide along the ice bridge, waiting until the helicopter had ceased moving before he teleported again and approached the pilot's seat, in an effort to retrieve the apparently wounded crewman.

When he got there, however, he found their head slumped forwards at an unusual angle, with their body mangled. The mutant's first reaction was to gasp in a mix of shock and regret, but as he moved even closer he realised the broken neck's covering had been cracked, revealing a set of wires.

"The pilot of this thing was a machine himself," Nightcrawler muttered. He pried the immobile robot out of the wreckage, noting the presence of a camera to the left side of its head and a small screen for text to scroll across.

_A gift for the X-Men. Kind regards, Bryan Liam Hunt._

BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBPBEEEEEEEEEP...

The explosion was unexpected, and for a fraction of a second the German mutant found himself unable to move from sheer surprise. A loud BAMF did eventually signify his quick moving away, followed itself by his not so graceful landing next to the rest of the now assembled X-Men. When he finally stopped skidding towards the mansion, he was obviously dazed, with his uniform somewhat scorched. Cyclops helped him uneasily rise to his feet.

"What did the robot say?" Wolverine barked at him.

"Nothing too...obvious..." came the weak reply. "Mentioned the name _Bryan Liam Hunt_."

"Name's unfamiliar." Wolverine paused. "Anything else?"

"It said... with kind regards."

Iceman rolled his eyes. "Why is it that anyone wanting to kill us has a twisted sense of humour?"

Rogue kept her eyes on the helicopter, noting how the cargo crate of the helicopter had mostly been crushed, although there was something that miraculously hadn't been damaged inside it.

"Nevermind that- what's it carrying that's strong enough to not be crushed and mangled by a helicopter crash?"

A dull, metallic thud came from the transported crate that the helicopter had been carrying, causing the hairs on the back of most of their necks to rise. All subconsciously held their breath until the second thud sounded, followed itself by the sound of the twisted remains being torn apart. Finally, two fists broke through what was left of the side, accompanied by an angry roar. It was as if a lion had woken up in the body of a god, which was itself imprisoned in a wooden cage, and finally decided that enough was enough.

Then the all hell finally broke loose, as a red blur leapt from of the wreckage. Iceman considered trying to slow it with a beam of ice, but instead decided to flee with the others and get out the way. Nevertheless, all but Storm found themselves knocked over by the seismic wave as four-hundred and twenty-three kilograms of angry muscle stood before them.

"**The juggernaut bows to nobody! For your attempts to imprison me, you shall all fall victim to my unstoppable power."**

With that, the behemoth began to charge forth...

**No time to write properly, literally about to run off. Poll on my profile about this series, please vote.**

**Updated as of January 25, 2014. For any imperial users, four-hundred and twenty three kilos is around nine hundred and thirty pounds, give or take.**


	6. A deal near the Red Dawn, Part 6

**I apologise, it has been seven long months, but my exams are now over and I have time to write. Let's go!**

**Yes, I am a bit rusty. PLEASE give some constructive criticism.**

Wolverine's eyes widened as he found the red giant charging towards the team. His loud footsteps echoed throughout the grounds like thunderclaps, the ground beneath them trembling as he began to pick up speed, head lowered to gain as much ramming power as he possibly could.

Nightcrawler was the first to leap into battle, swords raised as he teleported onto his opponent in a desperate attempt to try and pry his helmet off. The effort was met by Juggernaut reaching up and clubbing his attacker off with a colossal hand. Iceman was next up, freezing a patch of ground that the Juggernaut was running across. The effect that he'd been trying to achieve was to cause the Juggernaut to fall over and allow them to take his helmet off. Unfortunately, it was in vain as the tremors broke the ice into tiny pieces, the titan's charge left uninterrupted. Rogue ran past, shoving Iceman out of the way.

"Bobby, for an X-Man, your tactics need some work."

Rogue soon found herself eating her words as she tried jumping onto the Juggernaut and grabbing onto his arm. The effort met with dismal failure as she was effortlessly tossed aside and hit a tree, passing out. Wolverine immediately ran to her.

"Elf, I need to stabilise her or she's going to suffer some permanent damage! As soon as she absorbs my healing factor, you're getting her indoors and moving her and the Professor. Understand?"

"Ja," came the reply.

Cyclops fired an eye blast in an effort to break the enemy's stride, but quickly jumped out the way as soon as he could.

"How about a plan, Logan? We could do with a bit of direction here!"

Beast rolled his eyes.

"Of all the times you choose to have a leadership dispute, you choose now? Get your priorities sorted!"

"I need to prioritise? You're the one who forgets to eat when you're in the lab!"

Storm struck Juggernaut with a bolt of lightning, mostly forcing herself to keep going due to the threat but also due to the irritation she was having at the immaturity of her teammates.

"Can it, Cyclops! If you want to make a leadership challenge, make it when we're having the coffee afterwards and not when we're about to get trampled to death." Ororo prepared a second lightning bolt, but this time her opponent was better prepared and Iceman found himself being picked up and colliding against her in midair. Both fell, but were intercepted by Beast and Nightcrawler before they could fall too far.

Wolverine had managed to close the distance between himself and Rogue. Looking at the damage that had been done, there was a large gash on her head, her arm had been dislocated if not broken multiple times as well and she might potentially suffer from brain damage. Desperate not to let down the girl that was the closest thing he had to a daughter, he popped her arm back into place and was relieved to discover that the dislocation appeared to be the only problem. He then pulled his mask down and put her forehead next to his, waiting for her power draining abilities to overcome him.

He gritted his teeth and felt the pain wash over him, feeling his skin age as if he were a normal human being. The gashes on the sides of his face from the most recent Danger Room simulation were reopening, followed by the tear in his side from the scaffolding he had collided with in the battle against the Sentinels and Inner Circle. He came close to howling as he felt most of his recent wounds reopen. _Don't let go, Logan, don't let go. Rogue needs you._

Eventually, the damage that had been done to her head started to heal up, the gash almost vanishing into thin air. He noticed that her arm was starting to go back to normal, but forced himself to try and keep holding on; even if he couldn't see the brain damage, it didn't mean that she didn't have any. A few more cuts around his chest reopened, and he felt his healing factor was going into overdrive just to try and keep blood circulating.

"Almost... there..." he faintly muttered.

"_Almost_ never gets you the stash of money at the end of a job, Wolverine." He helplessly looked up to find that Juggernaut had knocked out Storm and Iceman as well, with Beast and Cyclops struggling to stand. Forge was presumably trying to keep the mansion defences up and stop him getting in, but they all knew that it was a useless gesture against a force so destructive. At that moment, Wolverine felt it all go into slow motion.

"Kurt... get her out now..."

The words were barely even a whisper anymore, with all of Wolverine's energy now sapped. The Canadian felt himself finally let go of her before he slumped backwards.

"Y'know, it's such a pity that you didn't join Magneto's Acolytes when he was still in charge, Wolverine. You'd have made an excellent member. But then you had to go and abduct me..."

Wolverine knew the truth, but he was still too weak to argue back. He could barely keep breathing, and blood was now streaking down his body.

Then Cain Marko just stood there for a minute.

"Get your friend out of here. The fight's between you and me."

Nightcrawler teleported in, picking Rogue up and teleporting away again, presumably taking her to the medical bay as fast as he could. Wolverine tried to stand up again, but had nothing left to give.

"So no fight from your side of the pitch? I hate doing it this way, but a score to settle's still a score to settle. This fight will be over soon."

With that, the heavy footsteps slowly marched towards him and he closed his eyes, ready for death.

*******

Meanwhile, at Mr Sinister's hideout

Colossus awoke to find himself strapped to an operating table, a collar around his neck. Despite his best efforts to free himself, the bounds that restricted him holding strong despite his best efforts.

He took a moment to pause and take in his surroundings. He noticed a cage in which a small Alsatian lay, eyes wearily staring through the bars with a look of sadness before it dozed off, its lowered head revealing a scarred neck with the signs of multiple injections. Piotr shuddered in horror before he angled his head left, seeing his sister in a similar predicament-

-and then he found himself almost foaming at the mouth in rage, as he saw Sinister standing next to the table, syringe in hand. Next to him, in turn, stood an eager Riptide with a clipboard and pen in each hand, a wide grin upon his face and a dark look in his eyes.

"Are we ready to proceed with the experiment, sir?"

"Almost, Riptide, almost. I take it that our young guest has had her pain receptors switched off, with everything being measured?"

"Affirmative. All the machines are presently monitoring her vital signs, including her pulse, breath and brainwaves. If she even daydreams, it's going to be recorded."

Sinister's face twitched mildly, as he was quite clearly trying to repress the pleasure from what he was about to do, syringe twitching only slightly as his arm descended towards Ilyana. This was more than Piotr could bear, and he roared at the pair of them in a mixture of anguish and hatred.

"Ah," muttered Sinister, slight disappointment registering in his voice as he realised the procedure was going to be interrupted.

"Welcome, Piotr. I see you are finally awake after your encounter with Archangel just outside Moscow. How are you feeling?"

No answer.

"Clearly the shock of being in a completely different location, after being depowered and strapped to an operating table, has left you a little lost for words. Never mind. I'll do what little talking we have time for this session."

Sinister paused again, putting the syringe down. This action caused his older captive to struggle forwards, having clearly imagined that Sinister might just be speeding up procedures anyway.

"I suppose you are wondering how we were so easily able to find you."

"Not really," Piotr replied. "You spent your resources tracking us down to a remote village in the Russian countryside, and then spent millions of dollars breaking one of the most dangerous super soldiers out of prison, just to scare two mutants away. Do you really think I can't imagine how you tracked a brother and sister down? You stuck a tracking device on Ilyana when one of your henchmen dragged her out of the house, you had a telepath following me, you bugged every single bus going to Moscow; I honestly don't know, and it doesn't matter. I'm here whether I like it or not, so just spare me the technicalities."

Sinister sighed. Clearly, Piotr had some fire left in his soul despite the cold and the bitter hardships that his family had been going through. It would certainly take some time, but he'd not been one to be deprived of information. Even if a man was made of steel, there would be a way to circumnavigate his physical defences and aim straight for his heart, and mercifully he had the perfect tool for the job right next to him.

*****  
Xavier Institute**

"Hey, Cain. You want a fight? I'll give you a fight!"

Cyclops had taken advantage of the distraction and ripped off the visor, unleashing all the power that he had available. A powerful eye beam slammed into Juggernaut and sent him flying back. Nine hundred pounds of raw power crashed into the ruins of the pool, where it lay for several minutes, though eventually the Juggernaut managed to get back up and trekked back towards the mansion, gradually speeding up as he overcame the opposite force despite the concussion.

Then Cain found himself dragged sharply into the ground as Kitty Pride joined the fight, her intangibility dragging him into the ground and leaving him stuck there, at least for now. After that, he found himself temporarily frozen in the ground as Iceman froze over his helmet and a bolt of lightning struck him a second later. Taking advantage of the temporary reprieve they would have from his confusion and temporary paralysis, Forge began loading up data to try and find a more permanent way to get Juggernaut away from the mansion. Teleporting him away would only serve to make him madder, and if possible Forge wanted to convince him that they weren't responsible for his waking up inside a burning helicopter.

**The far future**

As Charles Xavier found the timeline that he inhabited fading around him, and another taking its place, his thoughts drifted not towards his team, but instead to a point of dissatisfaction and depression that he had never shared with anybody else, not even Jean or Scott, with whom he had generally been able to confide anything. His feelings about his failure to keep Erik Lensherr from going too far were no secret; indeed, he had brought them up frequently whenever talking to one of the older X-Men.

Charles felt his thoughts drifting towards his stepbrother, Cain Marko.

Cain Marko, more commonly known as the Juggernaut, had reportedly been the stepbrother of Chuck back in the day, born to an American businessman and former crook. The two had fought side by side in the Korean War, having signed up for the army after Cain's father had developed a nasty streak. After almost a whole year of fighting, a collapsing tunnel during a mission in South Korea had trapped the pair in a cave and exposed the latter to the powers of the gem of Cytorak. From there, things deteriorated between the two rapidly as Charles found his stepbrother becoming more unhinged towards the end of their tour of duty, often charging into heavily occupied enemy territory with limited backup and insufficient weaponry. If not for the gem, it would have been quite likely that Cain would never have returned home alive.

At the end of their tours of duty, Cain and Charles did not ruin their brotherly bond with a vicious brawl or a loud argument. The two had reportedly simply stared at one another for what felt like eternity, gazing to see who would do something first. In the end, Cain had simply tightened his coat, picked up a suitcase and turned away, walking off and back towards a life in America with his father. Charles had been dumbstruck and hurt by the set of events, opting instead to return to his mother and back to the life they had left behind in England. The next time they had spoken, he had been confined to a wheelchair following his dealings with Lucifer, and Cain's old personality had been usurped entirely by a boisterous, inconsiderate brute whose only purpose in life was to break bones, smash buildings and break spirits for Magneto.

Charles felt the tears rolling down his face, just before the background changed and the barren desert that he had been standing in was replaced by dead soil and withered grass. He felt Bishop put a hand on his shoulder, and he was grateful for the gesture, but as far as they could all see they were stuck in the future, regardless of what the X-Men changed back in his own time.

*******

I appreciate this is brief, but I just felt the need to get things rolling again. After all, it's only been about a year. Thanks for reading, and again please review and criticise constructively!

**(Oh, and there's a poll on my profile about this story. Go and vote, you may influence one of the stories I have coming up.**

**And there's a Minecraft fanfiction I've written that I'd appreciate you R&R'ing. Thanks, that's all. Bye!)**


	7. A deal near the Red Dawn, Part 7

**A/N: Yes, I am aware that in spite of my apologising about a sloppy schedule, little has been done to change it. All I can do is apologise again and give the usual reasons before the next chapter. With luck things will get back into full swing; that said, however, there will be a short delay between this chapter and the next one being uploaded as we are moving house and I don't want to rush the project, regardless as to how far behind I am.**

* * *

He felt himself staring at the familiar walls. The same familiar, metallic walls that he had gradually grown to love and hate. It was the Danger Room, and he found himself staring as the four walls changed into a maze, before his legs propelled him into it without even thinking about what he was doing.

What happened next made no sense, as the labyrinth suddenly sank back into the ground, only for some of the walls to rise again, this time as an opened fence gate, with the text _Xavier's Institute for Higher Learning_ engraved into a sign next to it.

"_rising... still rising..."_

What was that voice? That faint, yet familiar voice?

No, he had to ignore it. He was just imagining things. Sheepishly stepping forward now, he felt himself drawn towards the school beyond the gate, walking towards it-

- At which point he felt the bars slam shut in his face. Ghostly apparitions came into view just beyond the entrance, arms passing through and trying to reach for him, forcing him to instinctively take a step back. They weren't his friends, they couldn't be... yet there were too many similarities between the people he knew and what stood before him.

"You left us in our hour of need, Piotr," growled a warped version of Cyclops, to the jeers of his fellows. "It's now our time to abandon you in yours."

"We died because you didn't come back in time for us, bub. Do you have any idea of the lives you could have saved, if you hadn't just hid in your corner of the world like the selfish coward you are?" More hurtful comments came from Wolverine. It couldn't be him; even by his standards this was abrasive and cruel... yet not entirely unbelievable.

"When push came to shove and the lights went off, your true colours were revealed. We wasted so much time on Magneto, when you were the real threat all along..."

"_heartbeat increasing..."_

The small voice made itself heard again, but it was given no heed as the taunts continued, each accusing him of treachery, cowardice and failing to see the bigger picture. Gradually, the taunts degraded into mindless cursing, the apparitions becoming thinner and less visible as the whole thing went on.

Then the scream came, loud, piercing and earth-shattering. The gates collapsed backwards on the apparitions, leaving Piotr Rasputin helpless to save them, to make up for his mistakes. The mansion walls began caving in, statues and commemorative plaques all falling to the ground.

"_Vitals are rising, heartbeat increasing, heartbeat increasing." _The voice returned, this time speaking with a mild sense of urgency, although it seemed to be ignoring the sudden screaming that had overcome the world he stood in.

Another voice chimed in. _"Vitals are getting worse. We need to do something!"_

The stabbing pain suddenly went through his body, and while he desperately wanted to scream he could do little more than whimper. For a moment he was awake, staring in horror as he saw Riptide's bloodied and bruised face grinning, with Ilyana crying out at whatever cruel experiments he was performing. Then the darkness overtook him, and this time he didn't find himself dreaming.

Three hours later, Mister Sinister found himself looking at the unconscious forms of the Rasputin siblings, both asleep due to heavy sedation. Riptide's petty experiments had ultimately been worth the trouble and many new discoveries about both his new guinea pigs had come to light, although time was now running short in all likelihood. It was time to speed things along and take the helm of the project himself.

The game would soon be moving into its primary stages, and Piotr and Ilyana Rasputin would be major players.

* * *

**Westchester, New York**

The ice that had held Juggernaut in place was starting to show the strain, as its captive began bashing and struggling to break free. The question is this case was when Cain Marko was going to break free, not if. Already, Kitty Pride found herself preparing to drag him back into the ground, and Cyclops kept one hand on his visor, reasoning to himself that if he knocked the Juggernaut back once, he could do it again. It was mostly self-reassurance, but in battle you did whatever you could to keep your cool.

None of these happened as Juggernaut found himself being lifted into the air, with the bolts holding his helmet down being lifted and discarded to one side, his helmet following not long after. Without thinking, the X-Men took advantage of the situation and threw everything they could his way- optic blasts, powerful lightning bolts, ice projectiles, and even a telekinetic blast.

Eventually, with an audible thud that was followed by a small tremor, Juggernaut hit the ground face-first, unconscious for now. It took the assembled team a few moments to work out what had happened, although eventually Nightcrawler was first to turn around towards the source of the telekinetic blast...

...and the sight, as short lived as it may have been, was almost unbelievable.

Levitating a few feet above the ground, looking exhausted but nevertheless radiating immense power, was Jean Grey. Her gaze was frozen between disbelief and pride, for she was feeling both after having taken Juggernaut down.

A split second later, she plummeted towards the ground, landing in a heap.

"JEAN!"

The team made a collective effort to reach Jean in a vain effort to catch her, but they were seconds too late. Cyclops made a beeline to her position, pushing Nightcrawler out of the way in a panic, scooping her up.

"Jean? Come on, you were strong enough to pull through this whole catastrophe. Please, wake up, wake up!"

At this point, Beast rushed over to the pair of them, producing one of his bio-scanners and frantically tapping at it, giving it an irritated nudge when it appeared to be slowing down.

"She'll be alright, Scott. In all likelihood, she's just dealing with the shock of having used her telekinetic powers without the backing the Phoenix Force. Her vitals are all relatively normal, although her pulse is a little fast and it appears that she's depleted most of her energy reserves. She needs to get inside. Now."

Cyclops almost looked ready to argue, but instead chose to follow Beast's advice, carrying her inside the mansion and moving to the infirmary, with the doctor, Shadowcat and a limping Rogue not far behind.

"Now what?" Iceman asked.

"Now we find out why exactly Jug' here landed on our doorstep via helicopter express. Elf, take his helmet and the bolts away, I don't want to have to put down an invulnerable Juggernaut yet again. Bring a laptop back here when you're done."

With a loud BAMF, Nightcrawler disappeared from sight with the helmet in tow.

"Bobby, help me secure him down. Storm, stick with me. If this guy starts gettin' up, I want you to help me knock him down."

"You really think that's possible?"

"Honestly, Ororo, I'm doubtful I can go another round against him, the last thing I need is him buttin' his head against me. You're the best shot we have with Jean out of the picture. Let's get to work."

* * *

**California, near the border with Nevada**

The man sitting at the bus stop glanced briefly at the timetable next to him. None of the destinations looked particularly appealing to him, but beggars couldn't be choosers. The reality of that had been clear since a young age, but being in a position of power had caused him to forget. The bare minimum he had needed for survival had since been pushed to one side, and then replaced by the strain of leadership and the feeling of persecution.

It was almost refreshing to find himself in such a helpless position.

The rain had been pouring down for a while now, and the old, wooden bus stop no longer seemed to be doing much good. The odd drip that had previously gotten through had been replaced by the multiple droplets slipping through the cracks. How typical, that the weather here had gotten worse not long before he was due to leave.

It felt odd, travelling without his traditional garb on, but it was necessary for a man such as himself to go around incognito. To this end, he had trimmed his hair unevenly, grown out his beard and reluctantly chosen to dispose of his royal garb. His old helmet at least could have still come in useful, but the fact was that it was missing and the red and purple costume, as well as the tattered cape, weren't worth the risk. For that reason, he had opted to take some clothes from a church donation bin, binning the rest of his outfit in an alleyway.

The cargo pants, white T-shirt and torn coat provided little comfort for him, and the shoes he was wearing barely seemed to fit him. Nevertheless, it was better than what he would wear should he wind up in prison.

He raised his head, noticing the bus pulling up to the stop, desperately raising his hand in an effort to hail the bus down. Any other day, he'd have flown or simply pulled the bus over with his magnetism, but since the event unimaginatively dubbed by the media as "The Mutant Incident of New York", he'd found that his powers had weakened owing to the stress of exile and the injuries he had sustained in the battle.

Furthermore, during that time others had been out for him, although bizarrely the X-Men had not been among them. Instead, the rumours of three supervillain prison breakouts just over a month ago, combined with a fourth in a different part of New York State, had meant that SHIELD was on higher alert than before- and this time they'd been joined by heroes of their own. He doubted that they'd let their guard down anytime soon; it was time to hide and rebuild until the world at large found him uninteresting again, choosing to focus on whatever supervillain made the headlines that day.

He climbed onto the bus, fishing out the change he needed for the bus ride west and handing it over to the bus driver, who gave him a fishy look, in part owing to his disgusting smell. He didn't rise to the bait at human scum giving him such discourtesies, choosing today to be merciful and ignore it, and make his way to the back row of seats.

America was no longer a welcoming place for people such as him, Wanda's instructions to the Brotherhood and Pietro's anger had made sure of that. It was time for Erik Lehnsherr to leave, and travel to the other side of the world.

**An unknown time**

Charles Xavier had never considered himself an irrational or cowardly man. The various trials and tribulations he'd suffered in recent times, he dared not guess how long had passed, had proved that as far as he was concerned.

However, the sight of a cell that he'd never seen before, after having been camped outside of a city that by all rights should never have existed, in a future that shouldn't have happened, caused the nerves of steel to suddenly fail him. Where he had been sitting on ashen soil out in an open field, there was now a hard stone floor, with straw for bedding and three blank, stone walls; he now wore prisoner's clothing in place of the survival gear he had been wearing beforehand, and there were no leg braces to help him walk. He'd never forgotten how it had been to lose the use of his legs, but the comfort of the braces had made it significantly easier for him to live life, and for a while it had as if he was back in his late twenties, with all the freedom he'd once known.

Almost helplessly, he managed to pull himself back up with the use of the bar, shuffling along with the use of his arms. It would almost have been funny to him, if not for his disability. Eventually reaching a door with a clear, plastic window, he knocked and yelled in a vain effort to get the attention of anybody nearby; three guards clad in blue and grey armour briefly looked his way, but kept walking as they had before without stopping to talk to him, or even tell him to shut up.

Hoisting himself up with the support of the door, he briefly glimpsed the other cells, in the hope of seeing the other X-Men he had fought with in the future of the Sentinels. The other prisoners were certainly mutants, but he recognised none of them; the majority of their mutations were too visible in comparison.

It was at that moment that the realisation as to how he had got here hit him, and painfully. It all came back to him, every second agonising to remember.

The final fight against Master Mold had not quite ended as the old stories of fairy tale heroics would have had a younger version of him believe. At every twist and turn of the fight, their adversary had proved remarkably resilient to any and all attacks that had been thrown its way, be it adamantium claws or the electromagnetic powers of Magneto's youngest daughter. Towards the end, Master Mold had used its telekinesis to lift all mutants present into the air, and disintegrated the debris that it had lifted beforehand.

With little choice left, he had tried to pull the minds of his team into the Astral Plane. It was better that they did not experience the pain of disintegration. Unfortunately, his mind had weakened during the time in the future, and he felt himself leaving one plane of existence as the screams began. He prayed their suffering had been quick. What had happened next was a blur; one moment he was in the eye of a storm, the next he found himself in the original model of Cerebro in Westchester, New York, with the rise of the Sentinels now an alternate reality.

And now he was here; the timeline has presumably "stabilised" and this was likely the result. As he brought his mind back to where he was now, he realised that the door had merged back into the wall, leaving him surrounded by four blank, grey walls. There was no company in the cell, little to use except a cistern with water dripping in from a pipe and a dim light in the ceiling, which was flickering and obviously about to die on him.

"Where am I?"

* * *

**Yeah, this chapter doesn't necessarily move as quickly as the others, but it does re-introduce various characters into the narrative, and I do actually plan to use some of these quieter moments to set up future plotlines, bigger or smaller.**

**If my writing plans are still feasible from when I first started them, next chapter should involve the Rasputin siblings and the X-Men again; we'll also have a new (well, familiar but probably unexpected) character introduced into the narrative. Till then, head over to the "1 Million To Save Wolverine and The X-Men" fan page on Facebook, follow Lucas Ackerman (not the driver who killed people in the US, the main guy who runs the FB page) on Twitter - Lucas_Ackerman is his handle, drop me some constructive criticism and vote on the poll on my profile! I will see you next time!**


	8. A deal near the Red Dawn, Part 8

**A/N: Thanks for your patience. This time I do actually have a legitimate excuse; we've moved house, and my laptop, which has most of my writing files, had fallen victim to a Trojan plus god knows what else, therefore I had to sort it out. Enjoy!**

* * *

"How long have I been unconscious?"

Multiple Man made no effort to reply; instead gazing at Piotr Rasputin's chained form.

"Multiple Man, please. I know you're one of the more reasonable people here. I need to know how long I've been unconscious. I need to know what they've been doing to my sister."

With these words, Multiple Man split into two versions of himself, with one going outside and watching the door. A few moments passed, and then the copy re-entered the room he was confined in, nodding before merging back with the original, which had just finished checking the room, presumably sweeping it for bugs.

"You and your sister have been unconscious for the past day. I don't know entirely what they've been doing to you, Sinister insisted that we be kept in the dark on that, but I know that they're planning something big. That's all I can tell you. Don't make me talk more; you'll just get me in trouble."

"Thank you," Piotr sighed. It wasn't what he'd hoped for, but doubtlessly Multiple Man was limiting the damage that could be done in terms of information leaking and his boss finding out.

Multiple Man did not acknowledge his gratitude, instead going back to guarding the prisoner.

Unbeknownst to either of them, Mister Sinister found himself listening to their conversation through a bug that Jamie Madrox hadn't discovered. During the time that Piotr had been out cold, he had planted a hidden camera in the most unusual of places- in Piotr's IV drip. A hidden microphone was also embedded inside the inhibitor collar around his neck; this was something that he chanced Multiple Man would not dare to tamper with, as the risk was too high that the wrong move would break it and allow their reluctant guest to make a break for freedom.

He wasn't going to penalise Multiple Man for this minor degree of mutiny- the information he had given was harmless, and in any case his minion was in the dark as much as his captive. He'd made a specific note to wipe Archangel's memory of the experiments done to Colossus, so that he and he alone was the only one in the facility to know of what had happened. The fewer loose ends in the operation, the better, he reasoned to himself- and the fewer you created in the first place, the better.

His research had been progressing at reasonable rates, although he had been reluctant to attempt some of it at first owing to the risks involved. Part of the research had involved the older Rasputin's powers, and in order to test them he had been forced to remove the inhibitor collar. Even with enough horse tranquiliser to keep a healthy stallion sedated for several hours, he had insisted on Archangel standing guard, as he was the only one with the strength and stamina to keep up with him in a long brawl. With luck, the research he had done would hopefully change that in the days to come, but he was taking no further chances.

The Marauders, on the whole, had become something of a disappointment to him in recent weeks, in no small part due to the fact that he'd had to free all of them except Archangel. While in combat they were an excellent asset in terms of pure strength, each had their flaws. Blockbuster was far too stupid and loved a good brawl too much to direct his strength precisely and efficiently, Riptide's cruelty was occasionally not in the team's interests, Vertigo was extremely arrogant, Arclight's ambition made him a liability in spite of his intelligence, Harpoon was too easily distracted and Multiple Man was... unpredictable, owing to a presumable side effect from his duplication process. Archangel was the only Marauder that he truly trusted to get the job done, and he was the only one under mind control. Good mind control, but mind control nevertheless.

If you had to pick a word to describe the affection he held for his star project, words such as _twisted_ would normally suffice, although less commonly used ones such as _perplexing_ also worked in this case. The interaction between the two resembled the affection displayed for a pet, such as a dog, although in this case the dog had basically been tortured and abused into loving its master. Nevertheless, whatever positive emotions, however bizarre and disturbed, were genuine, although Sinister would loathe admitting it to anybody.

As for Archangel, he had no words to say to his master unless directed. While Warren Worthington had essentially been brainwashed into another being entirely, it did no good to have spineless yes-men, or strong ones. He may have been obedient, but he had still been brainwashed to analyse, criticise and provide honest counsel, on the occasions he needed it.

It was the closest that Nathaniel Essex had to a real friend.

Yet as his thoughts became too sentimental, he noticed that Ilyana Rasputin had awoken.

"Good evening, dear Ilyana. I trust you slept well?"

The girl only shuddered, not that such a reaction was unusual.

"My apologies, it is easy to lose track of time in this line of work. You have been here for quite some time, after all. Shall we begin the tests?"

* * *

Juggernaut awoke, finding that his helmet had been removed yet again, and finding that a now healed Wolverine stood over him, with Iceman and Storm by his side.

"Why didn't you just finish me?" The question was rather nonchalant, particularly for a man with such a notable temper.

"You just got your butt kicked by one of the most telepaths on the planet, Cain. The X-Men felt that enough humiliation had been viewed by all."

The only response Wolverine got was a growl.

"Stop taunting me, Wolverine. I might be stuck in the mud, buried in ice and havin' my face tickled by the wind thanks to you cowards, but I'm not exactly helpless stuck down here."

"Perhaps not, but I suppose we just need to get that telepath out again and you'll get flung right back home again."

There was a pause and brief silence that hung in the air, with neither side daring to break it.

"Why'd you kidnap me? Did Chuck order you to torment me?"

Iceman raised his eyebrows. Cain Marko may have been the strongest of his family, but in the brains department he was sorely lacking, second only to his father- his brother's stepfather- in terms of stupidity. In his mind, if the X-Men were involved in any capacity, then Charles Xavier had explicitly given his blessing to whatever was going on, be it deliberately provoking the MRD for the fun of it or going AWOL owing to emotional problems.

"I don't think that Professor Xavier would dare to order us to torment and kidnap you, particularly if that meant keeping you in our own base. Even if he did want to, he's not really in a position to do so right now."

"Granted that first part is true, how come Chuck ain't in a position to do so right now? The only thing he can't do is climb a flight of stairs. Or do cross-country. Or go cycling on a normal bike. The list goes on..."

The three X-Men chose to ignore his cheap jab at the Professor's expense.

"That's not important, Cain," Storm said, doing her best to keep her voice neutral. "All you need to know is that the Professor has not been heading our operations for several months, and we had no reason to kidnap you."

"Why not? You've kidnapped before."

Storm opened her mouth, but the words never got a chance to leave her mouth.

"Don't deny it. You've done it before, in _exceptional circumstances_ or whatever. Why's this any different?"

Wolverine snorted in disbelief.

"Because we don't have the whole team around to stop you, our equipment's largely been damaged or destroyed, and Charles Xavier has been in a coma for months."

At this, Cain Marko's eyes opened wide.

"What... but how?"

"A lovely telepath by the name of Emma Frost attacked him telepathically on the orders of the Inner Circle, and we haven't been able to revive him since. Whatever she did to him, it's more than anyone here's been able to deal with," Bobby Drake shot back, rather angrily at that.

"So if you guys didn't kidnap me, who did?"

* * *

The man in the heavy winter coat stood outside the old warehouse turned science facility, having just followed the tracks from the truck. His body was hidden from the sentry's line of sight, having hidden behind the large vehicle. As he glanced out towards the sentry again, a large rock slammed into him, knocking him unconscious and out of sight. Three more then crushed a reinforced security camera that angled towards the noise.

He stood upright, marching towards the cameras and gesturing wildly in an effort to grab their attention. This was all part of the plan. He'd read the dossiers of the Marauders. Their second-in-command was far too ambitious for their own good, and his plan rode on exploiting that.

Within moments, Arclight and Blockbuster had rushed out to deal with him, the clone of Multiple Man getting back up from being hit by a rock. He fought back, of course, but not too much. He needed to save his energy. The subsequent beating that they gave him was brutal, with several extremely strong punches to his face and kicks to the stomach, and a roundhouse kick to the chest that winded him. He was grateful that his time in Weapon X had given him the ability to cope with such pain, for this kind of punishment would probably have crippled a normal man. Nevertheless, it _hurt_.

Before long, Blockbuster had picked him up like a sack of potatoes, dragging him into the facility while carrying him over the shoulder, Arclight taking point as they entered the warm corridors. As they went along, they passed old offices now devoid of paperwork, rooms where the paint was peeling off the walls, but the further in they got, the better the condition, with near-pristine floors and shining walls. Evidently, this was the vital section of the safehouse, where scientific research was conducted.

"Master, we've captured an intruder outside! He tried taking out our security cameras and our sentries."

If the lieutenant of the Marauders had expected gratitude or praise for his course of action, he was sorely mistaken.

"And you thought it was wise to bring an intruder into the complex, during such a vital operation? Do you have any idea as to how much _you've just put at risk_?"

Arclight stuttered.

"But m-master, I was under the impression that you needed new test subjects for-"

The worst part about Sinister was that he almost never seemed to raise his voice, yet it still cut through the background noise of machinery and screaming. Whatever was going on needed to be stopped, the sooner the better. He'd heard enough of it to know what was wrong.

"Have I ever expected you to seize test subjects without my explicit permission? Are you considering going rogue, Arclight?" There was a pause. "No? Good. Take this one back outside and finish him off. I have enough research from Riptide's experiments, as well as my own. This man is better off dead."

They started to drag the mystery man away.

"You know something, Arclight?"

The purple-haired Marauder turned his head towards their recent attacker.

"What is it, dead man?"

"You really are too stupid for your own good."

And with that, Christopher Nord, once known by his Weapon X alias of Maverick, broke free of the flimsy grasp of Blockbuster, choosing that moment to release all the stored-up kinetic energy in his body with a well-aimed punch to the large mutant's solar plexus. He crumpled almost immediately.

"My daughter and I have a debt to repay to the X-Men. And I'm not going to let a group of dumb mutants stop me from seeing it repaid."

With that, several rocks broke through the wall, striking Arclight dead in his chest and knocking him out cold. Through the hole in the wall climbed another figure, a woman, young and beautiful with blonde hair, also clad in winter gear.

"Okay out in the cold, Christy?"

Christy Nord smiled.

"Not too bad, Dad. Now, we have friends to save."

The two of them broke into a run down the corridor, the girl reaching into her backpack and producing something, which made a loud whirring sound as it clicked to life. Alarms started triggering, but the sound of an intruder breaking in had already given them away. They had no hope in a straight-up fight, so their best way forward would simply be to get in and out again, with their cargo in tow. The longer they lingered, the lower the chances that Piotr and Ilyana Rasputin would survive.

Sinister stared at one of the monitors, annoyed but unsurprised that the intruder in question had turned out to be hostile. When this whole fiasco was dealt with, he felt that it was time that he appointed a new lieutenant. Arclight's ambition had led him to try and win his master's approval, and he had promised that he would be harsher towards those who failed.

Mentally putting his annoyance to one side, he rose from his chair and rotated his head to face Archangel, his creation showing no hint of emotion.

"Archangel, there are two lost souls that have mistakenly entered my domain. Hunt them down and destroy them."

"Destroy?" Again, no hint of surprise, just double-checking if the order was sensible.

"Yes; the two present a significant threat to our investment, and must not be allowed to proceed. Our plans have worked well so far, but it is time that we fold and retreat with our winnings. I will see to it that our research is not lost, but for that I need time. When I am done, I will terminate the Rasputins personally. Now go."

He spared a glance at the display, to find that Arclight was back on his feet, followed by an injured Blockbuster, but at this rate neither of them would be in a position to stop their assailants. Riptide and Vertigo were closer than the other two, but he doubted that either of them would be fine fighting against their attackers.

"Understood." Archangel strode around the corner towards his designated enemies, disappearing to join the fray. As he did so, Sinister marched towards his laboratory, reaching for his comm link.

"Harpoon, meet me at the research terminal. Move quickly."

It was crucial that he saved his research and did not fail himself now. The original plan might not perhaps be salvageable, but a new one could easily be put in place.

* * *

Charles Xavier looked down at his legs the next morning, suddenly feeling something different about them. The night's sleep had not been a comfortable one, nor had it been easy, but eventually he had fallen asleep in spite of the disturbing dreams. Each had ended with his newest team being disintegrated by Master Mold, with some of his team from the past, both living and deceased, occasionally taking their place.

So what had changed during however long it had been since he was asleep?

Pulling up a trouser leg with a mild degree of difficulty, his eyes opened slightly in surprise, noting small electrodes touching the skin near his exposed ankle and calf. Slowly, carefully, he thought for a moment... and raised his leg, noting the small LED lights flickering red as he moved.

As pleased as he was by this sudden development, the fact was that he was still trapped in a cell, with no sunlight, window or even a door, and if they were able to fit on something like this to him, they had probably done worse while he'd been unconscious.

A voice suddenly rang out in the confines of his cell, the tone crisp and formal. It was almost certainly a pre-recorded message, designed for everyone. The voice sounded familiar, but who was it?

"**Prisoner- stand on the platform."**

Charles looked around, confused. There wasn't a platform here... there was barely enough room to relieve himself, let alone get to sleep. How on earth was there a platform?

The voice rang again.

"**Prisoner- stand on the platform,"** it went, followed by another voice that said, "First warning".

Whatever "first warning" meant, it probably wasn't worth finding out what would happen if he disobeyed. With a little effort, he pulled himself to his feet and awkwardly shuffled towards the platform that he finally noticed levitating slightly above the floor, climbing onto it. It lowered slightly, like a pressure plate, and a series of blue and green lights lit up around its edges.

A soldier phased through the wall, clad in the same blue and grey armour that the other guards had been in earlier, right fist glowing hot to show that he was armed and not to be taken lightly. Evidently, the platform was linked to the wall in some manner, allowing one of the guards to enter through the wall. For a moment, he considered running, but doubted he would make it far if he was reliant on something that his enemy had provided. Instead, he concentrated, holding the tips of his fingers against his forehead.

_Can you hear me?_ The question was telepathic, but no answer came back to him, mentally or verbally. Instead, the soldier threw a nutrition bar on the floor in front of his feet. Xavier desperately called out to the man in front of him.

"Wait, please. I'd like to know where I am. Why am I a prisoner?"

The soldier ignored him once again, phasing back through the wall. Xavier stretched an arm out as if, somehow, it would stop the other man from leaving, but still nothing happened. His calling suddenly became frantic.

"No, NO- WAIT!"

He felt himself rushing to the wall, pounding at it with his fists for several moments, but nobody returned to answer his calls. Why should they? He was likely far from the only person in this miserable prison.

As the day went on, he found himself pushing at sections of the wall in an effort to find a weak spot, but nothing seemed to give, and eventually his strength was exhausted. It was all he could do to eat the nutrition bar, drink what little water there was to sustain him, and stare at where the guard had come from, until eventually he fell asleep again.

"**Prisoner, step onto the platform."**

That same message woke him again, and this time he was determined for answers, standing up and getting onto the platform almost instantly. The same soldier phased through the wall, as he had done the previous day, throwing another nutrition bar at his feet to replace the previously eaten one, raising his right hand and aiming at him once again.

At this moment, Charles stepped off the platform, hands raised above his shoulders to show that he was being passive.

"Please, I would just like to know who has imprisoned me."

_SHHHRRRAAAK._ The soldier let loose a stream of plasma fire in his direction, from his fist, and the burst hit the professor square in the chest. He let loose a scream of pain and fell back, a loud crash echoing through the cell as he slammed into the cistern, a few bricks being cracked from the impact. The weapon was then angled down, and the new nutrition bar was shredded for good measure.

"**Second warning."**

The last thing Charles Xavier saw was the soldier turning around and departing once again, the burning pain in his chest overtaking him. Then darkness overtook him and his nightmares returned.

* * *

**One thing I just want to note before the rest of the end note; I meant to write the relationship between Sinister and Archangel like a mad scientist's affection for his favourite, horribly mutated dog, not as a form of shipping. If you want to see it that way, fine by me, but you'll only see things in a more disturbing light, I suppose.**

**Well, this chapter goes into the weirder end of things, but the action is picking up again! The arc of A Deal Near the Red Dawn, after the better part of three years, is finally drawing to a close, with the next chapter (and final one for this arc) hopefully up at some point in the next two weeks; another one will start at some point shortly afterwards. I've been waiting for so long to re-introduce **

**This chapter actually got uploaded much earlier than I expected; it turns out the move was painless in the tech department, and the internet was up about two days after we moved, which I wasn't expecting at all. Take care, and I'll see you at some point in the next couple of weeks!**


	9. A deal near the Red Dawn, Part 9

**A/N: So this is the final chapter of the "A Deal Near the Red Dawn" arc! It's taken the better part of (just under) three years, but I'm so happy that I've done it. Thank you all for sticking by me, even though logic, and convention of the internet, both indicate you would have been better off finding something else from the endless archives to entertain yourselves. Let's go!**

**Oh, there's a bit of gratuitous Russian towards the end of the chapter, plus a bit of British slang throughout, but I'll include the translations at the end.**

* * *

Their initial progress into the compound had been reasonable, given the circumstances and the significant amount of pain that Christopher Nord had suffered. However, Vertigo had delayed the two of them long enough for Riptide to close the gap, and now the two of them were behind cover, doing their best to not get caught in the area of effect of Vertigo's psychic waves, and even that was proving a difficult task.

Riptide smirked, drawing his sword.

"You can hide, but you can't run."

The cover that the pair of them had been using, a thick storage crate, started to turn over, and Christy felt herself coughing, then repressing the urge not to vomit as Vertigo took advantage of the opening she had been given. Her father, on the other hand, grabbed a spanner from a nearby shelf, and began striking it against the floor with increasing force, before leaning around the precariously placed crate to aim the spanner directly at her face, and throw it with an amplified force. Vertigo didn't even have time to register the spanner striking her as she hit the ground, unconscious.

"Improved immunity to diseases. When Weapon X tinkered with my ticker, they made it so I can't easily suffer from disease, nausea or vertigo. It stinks to be you right now."

Christy breathed a sigh of relief as the urge to vomit faded, although her relief was short lived as Riptide began drawing everyone in with his high speeds, slashing at Maverick's chest twice before lunging in for a critical strike.

"Urngh!"

The cry of pain was audible, but Riptide didn't have long to gloat as he found himself being kicked in the face, before part of the ground lifted up beneath him, and underground cables, floor panels and soil slammed him into the ceiling, before dropping him and then forcing him into the wall.

"Don't. Touch. My. Father."

With a groan, he collapsed, barely conscious, barely getting a moment to realise what had happened before he and Vertigo were thrown into the approaching Arclight and Blockbuster. The ceiling then caved in, shutting off the way in.

"Blockbuster, start breaking your way through!"

They evidently didn't have long, although Maverick was crouching and leaning over.

"Daddy!"

Her father coughed and grunted.

"I'm okay," he spluttered, and he lowered part of his coat to reveal that he had his old, Weapon X issue body armour underneath, although he had made a point to dye the colours since he'd last donned it. "It's more painful than anything."

"But... I thought you said you were never going to wear that again?"

"I know," he sighed. "I never expected I'd need to. I guess I should be grateful that I kept it; it's finally done me some good."

"We need to move, and quickly. The sooner we get a move on, the sooner we've repaid our debt."

Maverick laughed.

"Sounds good to me. There's a lot I owe Wolverine, and this is just the start. I will say this though. This isn't a father-daughter outing I'd imagine we'd be having."

They both smiled, but behind the joke there was something sobering about his words, and his thoughts diverted to it as they ran further forwards. Christopher Nord was truly glad that his daughter was still behind him after everything that had happened to them, but their time together had been somewhat limited. Granted, five months was not an insignificant amount of time, but it couldn't fully make up for a childhood lost forever to Weapon X, and while he remembered the first six years of her life much had changed since his abduction.

Even with heroes such as the X-Men behind them, there were some things that simply couldn't be reversed.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of loud footsteps. A metallic, gunmetal grey wing with sharp, jagged edges protruded from around the upcoming corner, with a faint red and dark grey body suit covering his torso and legs, presumably armour of some sort, followed by the other wing as it came into view. What was worse, however, was the face.

The skin was discoloured in a weird way, so that it looked stone grey, with the eyes a pale shade of white to contrast with the more gloomy colour scheme, although whether or not this was deliberate or just an accidental consequence of Sinister's tampering was unknown. Above that was the red gem embedded in his forehead.

It glowed faintly for a few seconds, before shining brightly. There was no banter, no dialogue informing them about how doomed they were, no gloating whatsoever. The two combatants backed away a few inches, uneasily trying to prepare for their fight.

And with that, Archangel soared towards them both.

* * *

The same soldier returned to the cell in solitary confinement that he had visited twice before, hand reaching up to open the control box on the wall, the other readying itself for dealing with trouble. A series of buttons and an indicator light appeared before him, and he pressed the third one.

"**Prisoner, stand on the platform."**

Even through the wall that he walked through to enter and exit the cell, the automated voice could still be heard, albeit slightly muffled in this case. He waited a moment, as procedure dictated, until the indicator light came on, before taking a step to the left and phasing through the wall.

The point-of-view of someone phasing through objects is one that took time to get used to, although few with the ability lingered around long enough to do so. He saw the insides of the wall, including the heating pipes, the drainage and waste lines and the cockroaches that had started living in the small cracks in between, and then finally saw the insides of the cell-

-and for a moment, he stopped in his tracks, staring at the platform. In place of the prisoner that should have been standing on it was a heap of bricks weighing it down, precisely calculated to match his approximate weight so as not to set off any alarms. It was then that his gaze shifted to the mostly-dismantled cistern, a few loose bricks barely hanging on to the wall.

He didn't have time to turn to his right before the prisoner slammed into him with a lunging yell, driving him hard into the opposite wall. He felt fingers reaching around his helmet, desperately struggling to get it off. It came free as he shoved the prisoner away, bringing up his fist to fire, but he had made his move too sloppily and his arm was jerked upwards.

_SHRAAAKK._ The jagged blast raked across the ceiling, with small amounts of debris raining down onto both of them, but he had little time to register that as he felt a hand tightly gripping his face, seeing his attacker concentrate deeply.

Then the voice started talking in his head. It spoke in calm, reassuring tones, but the feeling caused his eyes to widen in horror. He knew what was happening, and he was powerless to stop it.

_Easy. I'm not trying to hurt you._

Thoughts of resistance lingered in his head, desperately trying to regain control. Slowly, he felt them slipping away, and he found himself subdued.

_Good. Now, I want you to do something for me._

Moments later, a soldier and a new prisoner phased back through the wall and into the outer corridor, the latter clad in a black under-suit with pupils dilated, his body language inconsistent with his metabolic state. Once through, the armoured man turned around and faced his captive.

"Return to the cell and go to sleep."

No reply came, as he obediently marched back into the cell.

Allowing himself a hint of a smile, Charles Xavier donned the soldier's helmet and marched down the corridor.

* * *

Sinister marched down the hallway, reaching a locked door with a keypad and eye-scanner. He swiftly punched in the code and entered the room, Harpoon following him in and closing the door behind them, barricading it with what little could be spared.

"Your orders, sir?"

"This location is compromised. At some point in the next twenty-four hours, this location will likely be visited by the Russian authorities and the Winter Guard. We need to erase any trace of our activities here and send all data to our central network. Help me with the backup of all essential data; if there is time, back up the less essential files. If there is no time, destroy the mainframe. There can be no victor if there are no spoils."

Without a word, Harpoon and Sinister found themselves calmly opening files and burning them to a backup device that the latter had produced from his belt. The first files to go were those concerning their research on Piotr and Ilyana Rasputin, followed by the files that concerned the next stage of his plan.

It was always a shame to be forced to this next stage of the plan, but it never hurt to be prepared by having backups on standby. He had done this before when confronted by the X-Men, after having learned the consequences firsthand years in the past, although he'd noticed the correlation between his interactions with the X-Men and the amount of times he'd had to back up his research. At some point, he needed to up his efforts in order to resolve the problem.

His brow lightly furrowing, he turned to Harpoon.

"Progress?"

"The genetic data has been backed up, although we still have a few files left to go."

Outside, Sinister could hear shouting, presently faint, but nevertheless they didn't have long until either the core backup was completed or the fight drew closer to their location. He wondered how Archangel was faring.

* * *

The blast of energy that slammed into the mutant in front of them would have been enough to knock over Blockbuster once again, but their adversary simply stretched his wings out, using them to cushion his body from the blast, and when Maverick spared a glance back at where the kinetic energy had been thrown, he noticed that there were no visible signs of damage. Whatever this... abomination of a person had once been, it didn't seem to even feel pain.

Within moments of that attack, Archangel found himself entombed as Christy brought down the ceiling on top of him, although to her visible horror he wasted little time in freeing himself, wings slicing through the debris pinning him down, his arms grabbing a piece of girder and throwing it at the duo opposing him to force them to find cover as he did so. He then raised one of his wings, firing dozens of sharp blades towards the pair, one slicing the crowbar Maverick held in half and others grazing them.

"What does it take to keep this guy down?" Christy grunted with annoyance as she nursed one of the minor wounds on her arm.

"Whatever it takes, we're going to need to do more than drop the ceiling on him. He has to have some kind of weakness!"

With those words, Maverick aimed his crowbar half at Archangel's chest, only for the blow to bounce off as a wing. It was at that moment that Christy took advantage of the situation, causing him to sink into the ground as the ground below him was reshaped.

Then darkness overtook him for a matter of seconds, as a kinetic blast hit him in the centre of the head.

"Come on, we haven't got much time!"

Maverick and Christy ran past his unconscious form, aware that he would likely wake up soon.

* * *

Something about the darkness felt almost pleasing to Archangel, as the instructions ceased. Emotion had more or less been hardwired out of his body since his encounter with Wolverine and Storm at Worthington Pharmaceuticals, but on occasion faint traces slipped through the screening process that Sinister had implemented.

For a moment, his memories came flooding back to him. The fight in the laboratory had been heated and traumatising at the same time, with him unable to tell which emotions were genuine and which had been planted in his head. One half of him had wanted his father's legacy to burn, the other half... had still been angry, but not quite to that extent. It hadn't simply been mind control- that much was obvious, but rather mind control combined with his despair and rage at a world that had chosen one bad day to break him.

It was thanks to Sinister that he had this opportunity to spread his wings and take flight once more; it was thanks to him that he was stronger than ever, it was thanks to him-

That he had no friends left in the world.

It was as if Sinister had sensed his mental dissent, for at that moment, a few dozen metres away, Sinister reached for another device and pressed the button in the middle. He felt his thoughts slowly slip out of reach, and the darkness overtook Warren Worthington III.

_Archangel. _Wake up.

The gem on his forehead glowed red, and his head rose. When his eyes reopened, it was Archangel that saw the world around it, his body little more than a puppet or an automaton. It pulled itself from the ground, now breaking into a run as it turned the corner, to find its two victims having broken past a reinforced door.

Alarm bells went off in its head, though it made no effort to visibly react to them. All that Archangel associated with this action was the prisoners they'd been keeping here. If master had made his intent clear on salvaging what he could and terminating the Rasputins, then his servant would save him the trouble and put them down for him.

The black, grey, red and blue blur slammed into Maverick as he wrestled to try and break Ilyana loose from her reinforced restraints, wings serving as a battering ram as he drove his adversary into the generator. The sound of electricity running into the crowbar he was carrying echoed around the room, followed by Ilyana and Christy Nord screaming in surprise and anger. A rock slammed into his chest, but he was running at such a speed that he forced himself to shrug the impact off. The mission was the priority, Archangel reasoned to itself, driving its knee into Christy's chest before she could break Piotr free, following up the move with a slam from both its wings and crushing some cables from the nearby machinery as it did so.

Maverick felt himself being pulled from the generator, the electricity having weakened him noticeably, before he was dropped next to Christy, a wing pointing at each of them, slowly drawing back. They had fought their hardest, and clearly their energy was depleted. Orders were orders, and the lost souls were to be extinguished.

"ARCHANGEL!"

A roar of rage rebounded from wall to wall, and before Archangel had time to turn to its source Piotr Rasputin had slammed into his foe, knocking him back across the room.

Warren Worthington's face remained as stony as ever, but underneath the exterior, the Archangel persona registered pain and surprise. It had to fight on. Master had ordered it to.

The element of surprise clearly in his favour, the Russian man launched an uppercut, throwing it off-balance, before a kick knocked its legs out from underneath it and a hand grasped his neck briefly, before it felt itself being thrown into the generator and grunting in pain at first, then yelling as the electricity coursed through its body. Its arms hopelessly reached out and swiped forwards, logical programming temporarily overridden by animalistic instincts of desperation and panic.

Then, for the second time that evening, Warren Worthington's body went unconscious, and this time Archangel made no effort to rise, the only signs of activity being the slow rise and fall of his chest.

* * *

Piotr Rasputin stared at his hands, himself shocked at his sudden freedom. One moment he and Ilyana had been strapped to their tables, the next two complete strangers were trying to free them and proclaiming that they would soon be safe. In the process of trying to free them, the pair had been interrupted, but the girl had tampered with his restraints and collar, and Archangel had inadvertently knocked the last restraints loose during his surprise attack.

Wasting little time to chat, he pulled the restraints off Ilyana's table, setting her free.

"Piotr!"

The cry of joy from his younger sister was enough that it caused him to shed a few tears, not for the first time in recent days, and for a few precious moments both siblings held each other in a tight embrace, joyful that things were seemingly about to improve.

He and the older of the strangers shared a glance, saying nothing but making their thoughts clear. They were each grateful to see the other, but there would be time for introductions later. If they wanted to live, they had to run, and fast.

With Ilyana being carried by her brother, and Christy leaning on her father for support as she tore a hole through the base wall, the four of them limped out into the fresh air and harsh winds, aware that in spite of the bitter weather, sweeter times lay ahead.

* * *

The Infinite soldier walked past the cell in solitary confinement, repeating the rounds that he'd become used to doing, only to notice something unusual as he noticed the panel was still open, with the indicator light still on and flashing repeatedly. Normally visits to cells in solitary took two minutes at maximum- clearly something was wrong. Right arm phased with fist smouldering, he phased through the wall as, unknown to him and the rest of the prison, his colleague had done less than half an hour ago.

When he finally emerged in the cell, his eyelids flew open underneath the helmet as he noticed the sleeping form of his comrade on the loosely-covered straw floor. It didn't take very long to put two and two together, and he quickly emerged back in the corridor, slamming an alarm button. A loud klaxon immediately sounded, drowning out whatever screams there had been earlier on. In immediate response, armoured men and women immediately ran past the guard who was walking with purpose in the opposite direction to them, focusing on the lift ahead of him.

Charles Xavier's main priority was exiting this wretched hive and finding something that resembled an actual civilisation, but he couldn't help himself from glancing down below, now standing in a mezzanine area. Below him was a chasm, and what seemed to be the largest prison block in the entire area, as hundreds of cells lined the chasm, each containing five occupants even though the cells were clearly designed to hold less than that. There was more screaming, from men, women and children, and at one point he heard the heartrending cry of a baby.

Who would design such a nightmarish place, and why? There were so many questions in his head that he wanted to ask, without being entirely sure as to whether or not he would be better off not knowing. He progressed further towards the lift, noting the open lift shaft and the fact that it connected to other mezzanines, both above and below him. He stopped at the doors, raising his hand to call it to this floor.

As it turned out, he needn't have bothered, for before he could finish the doors slid open, and briefly Charles Xavier felt himself stiffen in surprise as, flanked by two elite guards in the same make of armour, only with a grey and black colour scheme, Mister Sinister stepped out onto the mezzanine and walk straight past him. Without saying a word, Charles stepped into the lift, eyes warily watching the man he had just passed until the doors closed.

Sinister had never been fortunate enough, at least as far as Charles Xavier knew, to possess an appearance that people deemed normal, although this time he looked different from before. For a start, his hair was longer, even braided out slightly, and his usual blue and red outfit had been replaced by a red and grey one, his cape a darker shade than usual, although that couldn't be the only difference from before.

Something about this location and time was different, and from the looks of it this place was never meant to be, yet here they all stood.

What had to have gone so wrong for them to all be here?

* * *

Sinister's head shot up as he heard a roar and the sound of breaking metal, followed by the sound of Archangel screaming. Without saying a word, he left Harpoon to finish the data backup and disposal, hurriedly opening the door and rushing towards the source of the noise.

When he arrived, he found that the facility's generator had been destroyed, brief flickers of electricity still present for a few moments. At its feet lay an unconscious Archangel, his wings covered by debris, gem clearly unresponsive for the time being owing to the trauma inflicted to his head, both Rasputin prisoners missing. The damage was not severe... yet it was enough for Sinister to gaze harshly through the hole in the wall, to see four figures fleeing through the snow and climbing into an old truck, the older female limping, and clearly being supported by her father.

His expression stayed the same, and there was no visible sign of anger, but this wasn't the kind of anger where he would degrade into a mindless berserker. It was controlled and calm, and even more terrifying for it. With barely a moment's hesitation, he ran out towards them at lightning speed, hands slamming together to form an energy blast that struck Maverick in the back, causing Christy to fall forwards. Grunting, he saw Piotr struggle forwards, getting Ilyana into the truck first, then going back for his fallen comrades, dodging further blasts.

"Marauders," Sinister said, hand now on his comm, voice perfectly level. "The intruders are escaping with our prisoners. Meet me at our truck for pursuit."

A matter of moments later, the majority of his team had assembled in the garage, slowly climbing into the back of the large truck, Harpoon taking the wheel and Sinister joining him in the front, followed by an armed Multiple Man. As the two of them got in the front, Blockbuster carried an unconscious Archangel and safely deposited him in the back before getting on himself, all but one of the team now present and accounted for.

"Drive."

Harpoon hesitated for a moment.

"But... what about Arclight? He's still not here."

Sinister frowned at him. After all the failures Arclight had been responsible for in this past day, his comrades still wanted him rescued? He said nothing, but with such a frown the message was clear. If Arclight wanted to leave with them, he would catch up to them or be left to whatever fate awaited him here. Harpoon reluctantly nodded and gunned the accelerator, speeding after their target.

The first volley of gunfire missed the Rasputin's truck entirely, the winter blizzard making it almost impossible to see more than a few metres ahead at any one time. The second came closer, although this was due to sheer dumb luck. Reloading, Multiple Man reached into a compartment and pulled out a pair of goggles, putting them on. All of a sudden, the white winter wasteland ahead of him changed to grey, the truck now standing out like a sore thumb. He grimly smiled as he aimed the machine gun ahead of where the target was going to be, the next burst of gunfire hitting the back of the truck.

"Get closer! I can't hit much from this distance."

Harpoon put the pedal to the metal once more, slowly gaining speed, although the blizzard hampered their progress slightly as the windscreen wipers were forced into overdrive and visibility failed to improve for the rest of them. For Multiple Man, it was enough, and he managed to break one of the windows and the left wing mirror, although he was obviously firing too erratically.

"Line up your next shot, Madrox. We may not get another one in this kind of weather."

The same grim smile returned to his face, as he aimed for the back of the enemy vehicle.

"Say your prayers, escapees."

The loud sound of a sniper rifle shot rang out over the snowed-over fields, and the machine gun jerked violently, missing its target entirely as their vehicle swerved slightly, a burst tyre now at the back. Two more followed, one penetrating the side of the truck and another destroying a tyre guard.

"To our right!"

Sinister stared in genuine surprise at the sight that greeted his eyes. Three armoured military vehicles were speeding towards their location, followed by several jeeps and police cars, and to make matters worse, at the head of their convoy were a few familiar figures, each seemingly intent on revenge for the stalemate they had suffered at Moscow.

It was the Winter Guard, and this time they were the ones with the element of surprise, as machine gun fire and assault rifle fire headed towards Sinister's truck. For a moment Sinister wondered how they had found their location, though he quickly dismissed the thought.

"Harpoon, get us out of here."

"Sir?" Again, Harpoon seemed genuinely surprised. They had fought against the Winter Guard before, when they had been backed by the might of a larger military force. Sinister supposed it was logical to ask why they should flee.

"We're not going to win this fight against them. They had the element of surprise, and they used it against us. Now get us out of here before I leave you behind as well!"

Harpoon, seemingly for once, did not need to be given an order for a third time, and he gunned the accelerator as the truck fled from the oncoming assault, Multiple Man grabbing a grenade launcher and returning fire in an effort to cover their escape. One of the armoured vehicles took a hit, but it was only a glancing blow.

A lone figure ran from the confines of the base, moving at terrifying speed in spite of the sheer cold and horrifying winds. His face had already felt raw after the beating he had suffered at Maverick's hands, but now the wind was absolutely agonising. The only thing that kept him going was the sheer adrenaline from the desire he had to not be captured by the attackers.

"Wait for me!" He screamed in terror at the van he knew his boss was on, hurriedly letting loose a shockwave near the car that had gone towards him, causing it to wobble and swerve before he jumped onboard, knocking one of the police officers off the mounted weapon before he managed to knock the other one unconscious with a follow-up attack, throwing him out before he sat in the passenger's seat.

"Drive if you want to live," he hissed to the man at the wheel. He doubted that the driver understood English, but the message was probably clear enough, and they stayed on course as they followed the truck. He opened one of the windows, again screaming for help. The car sped up once again, now closing the distance between them and Sinister's truck.

They must have heard his cry, for at that moment the van briefly slowed down, although Arclight doubted it was at their master's discretion, and the back of the truck opened as Blockbuster threw him a rope, although he barely managed to grab it before the wind blew it away. He felt himself clinging on for dear life, in the hope that he would be rescued. Eventually, he was yanked inside before the back door closed again, although he thought he felt something break as he was pulled from the car. Before he passed out, he sent another seismic wave at the car, knocking it over.

Throughout the rest of the escape and subsequent journey, nobody dared to speak. They were all aware that in spite of their pursuers choosing to aid the Rasputins as well as their helpers, instead of choosing to hunt them down, their mission had ended in catastrophic failure, in no small part owing to Arclight's arrogance. All of them dreaded their debriefing, and some of them doubted they would even survive it.

* * *

**Minutes earlier, from Piotr Rasputin's perspective**

The gunfire started hitting closer towards them, and he knew that as good as their truck was, it was nothing compared to the more modern vehicle that their pursuers were using, and he felt a few bullets piercing the side, followed by the heat in the truck slowly being let out. He heard Maverick shout angrily as more gunfire came their way.

"Maverick, take the wheel!"

Waiting for his co-driver to take over for him, Piotr clambered into the back of the truck and waited until his skin was once again steel, before shielding Ilyana with his body as another burst of machine gun fire pierced the truck's exterior.

"I can't shake them! We may have to fight further to get out of here."

Then the sound of a sniper rifle rang out, and for a moment Piotr wondered if someone was dead, or if they were about to crash. He waited a few seconds, glancing at Ilyana, then at Christy and Maverick. They were fine.

"What's happening out there?"

"I don't know!" Maverick sounded as confused as he was. "Their truck's swerving... but what's that to our right?"

There was a moment's pause. Whatever it was, it was certainly a sight if it took Maverick by surprise.

"I don't believe it. I was hoping for the cavalry, but I wasn't expecting this. It's the Winter Guard."

Piotr felt his eyes widen. He was grateful that something had turned up to help, but a matter of a few days ago he and Ilyana had been fleeing from the authorities owing to anti-mutant hysteria, and the Winter Guard had been there to make sure nobody broke the peace when a stop and search mission had been carried out. Their reasons for being here might not have been entirely benevolent. After all, he'd heard nothing more of Omega Red during his time in Sinister's custody.

Time after that passed quickly, as he heard explosions and Maverick shouting that the other truck had fled, before suddenly they were surrounded yet again. Exhausted, Piotr growled.

"What is it with our being imprisoned and surrounded repeatedly?"

Ilyana gave him a weak smile, desperately attempting to get him to relax.

"Calm down, _starshiy brat_. They may well be here to save us, not to hurt us. You'll see." It was a weak lie, and he could tell that she did not entirely believe her own words either, but he appreciated the effort and said nothing more.

Maverick turned off the engine before removing the keys and helping Christy climb out of the lorry, and with reluctance Piotr realised that there could be no more hiding. In any case, hindsight told him that he would have been better off in the custody of the Russian government. He opened the back door, and with Ilyana clinging onto his back, he climbed out and stepped towards whatever awaited him.

* * *

The sunlight crept in through the darkened windows, as the large, automatic, thick bay door opened to permit a huge vehicle into the hangar. This was clearly the vehicular entrance for all personnel, be they military or scientific, as he noticed a transport rolling in, with at least fourteen soldiers hang on through alcoves. The transport slowed down for a moment to permit all the soldiers to get down, at which point they all rushed out of sight. Moments later, men in yet another type of armour climbed out of the transport hatch, marching in a different direction to the soldiers, presumably towards a laboratory of some kind.

As the transport rolled further up the hangar, the bay doors started to close, although before they did so Charles Xavier found himself slipping outside, seemingly unnoticed. He saw the bay doors close, with nobody paying attention to him leaving. He turned around, only to gasp in shock.

Before his eyes lay a startling new landscape, unlike any that he had ever seen before. He had heard of rumours of such places in childhood stories, but for a matter of moments he found himself in sheer awe- and terror- at the scale of what had been accomplished.

Across the skyline, glass pyramids spread beautifully, complimented by presently inactive solar beacons that presumably illuminated the sky at night, while on the ground lay the rest of the city, with crystal spires reaching up towards the sky and dwarfing the other buildings, all except one.

At the centre of the city was a power station, which emitted an energy beam that kept aloft a giant citadel in the shape of a pyramid. Around it, specks flickered, hovered and zoomed around it, likely a mix of aircraft and mutants, although if any of them were humanoid they were more or less invisible to the naked eye from this distance. He dreaded to think as to what was inside it, likely the leader of whoever was responsible for this. If he went in there and confronted whoever was there, would he end this nightmare?

No, he concluded. As it was, he felt weak enough after his confinement, and if these helmets were any indication they blocked out his telepathy, essentially a mass-produced version of Magneto's helmet. With telepathy gone and his energy low, he would better conserving his energy after finding somewhere to hide.

He walked on, sticking to what little shadow remained and checking his shoulder repeatedly for whatever lay behind him. He doubted he would be alone for long.

* * *

The corridor of the prison was normally bustling with activity, with soldiers entering and exiting cells once each day with nutrition bars, making sure their charges were still in their cells. At the moment, however, the area was under lockdown, with only high-ranking staff, and those they gave permission, allowed in this part of the Pens.

The same soldier that had raised the alarm stood at attention, alongside his armour-less comrade and a third figure. This third figure had blonde, close-cropped hair, numerous cybernetic attachments on his face, and a red utility belt that went over his chest as well as his waist, which covered a black suit of light armour.

This was the Prelate of the Pens, and Sinister's second-in-command, at least when it came to this facility. His name was Alex Summers, more commonly known as Havok, and he stood to attention as his master and his bodyguards walked down the hall towards them.

"Mister Sinister..."

Sinister held up a hand, and there was instantly silence as he turned to address the armoured soldier that stood before him.

"I take it your comrade is the Infinite that let the prisoner escape."

"Yes, sir," came the obedient reply. When it came to professionalism, the conditioning for Infinite soldiers, as Sinister had dubbed them, was superb, as they indoctrinated their warriors to focus, not speak unless spoken to by a superior or in combat, and above all follow their orders.

"Send him for reconditioning."

There was a nod of acknowledgement, and both the armour-less soldier and his colleague marched down the corridor and out of sight without a word of protest. Even with the telepath's tampering, the indoctrination process worked spectacularly well.

Sinister turned his attention back to his nervous subordinate.

"You have an update?"

"Yes, sir," replied Havok. "The prisoner has made it outside. But don't worry. The armour has a built-in homing beacon. We're tracking his progress now."

As per usual, Sinister remained calm, his deep voice staying almost monotonous.

"Find him, Havok. Before Lord Apocalypse learns of this."

Sinister and his guards marched down the corridor, not waiting for a reply, and Havok bowed as his master left the area, clearly suppressing his rage until they were out of earshot. Then, when he was certain they were unable to hear or see him, he yelled, firing a power beam at the wall from his hand. It bore a messy hole in the wall, right in front of two passing soldiers who calmly waited until he was done. He imagined they were amused by his sudden display of anger and his opting to take it out on the facility.

"Get that repaired," he barked, marching away.

* * *

**Winter Guard headquarters, outer Moscow**

Not for the first time in his life, Piotr Rasputin found himself utterly confounded by the situation he was in. He and his friends had been taken to Moscow by the Winter Guard, officially for questioning regarding Sinister and suspicion of crimes against the state.

Unofficially, the so-called questioning had involved Ursa Major and Darkstar contacting the X-Men to verify the story that they had heard, and to confirm the link between the Marauders and Sinister. Ilyana had been somewhat nervous, although Red Guardian and Crimson Dynamo had done their best to reassure her that everything would turn out okay.

"Let me get this straight," Ursa Major asked, now back in human form. "This man Sinister has been performing genetic experiments on mutants, extracting DNA by force and then terminating the test subjects?"

"Correct," came the reply from the other end of the conference call, specifically from Hank McCoy who had dealt with Sinister's abominable experiments in the past. "I assume that is why Piotr claims that he sent the Marauders after him and his sister, and then fought your team in the process."

"As their team-mates and friends-" Darkstar began speaking, but was cut off.

"Family," interrupted Wolverine.

"And family, yes, I will take your vouching for their innocence as proof. In any case, the Rasputins may actually be in a position to get an official pardon from the Kremlin, owing to the fact that if not for them and the Nord family, the evidence from Sinister's warehouse would have been harder to obtain. They'll all be on the next flight from Domodedovo International Airport to JFK International Airport."

At this, he was stunned awake.

"We're being let free?"

"Is that a complaint?" The Major was clearly amused. "Of course you're being let free, there's no evidence you were involved and you had no logical reason to help Sinister break Rossovich free. Rather worryingly, we haven't been able to find any evidence as to where he may be hiding after-"

Wolverine coughed loudly, and the Major got the hint.

"In any case, the Winter Guard isn't entirely behind the anti-mutant movement as much as our superiors would like to be. Let's just say it conflicts with a few of our interests." He gave a knowing wink to Colossus.

Ilyana had one more question.

"And what of our parents?"

At this, Darkstar took over.

"At the moment, we're looking for them. When we find them, they'll be put into witness protection. They'll be given a new place to live and new identities; they'll be safe, you have our word."

"Thank you."

The Major and Darkstar shook hands with the group one last time, before they departed with their belongings and got into a car headed for Domodedovo International Airport, from which they would fly back to American soil, for the first time in well over a year in Piotr's case. The four of them relished the peace while they could, for they felt that it had been well-earned.

Later that evening, a fifth person was brought into the headquarters of the Winter Guard, having been found carrying a sniper rifle and positioned on the top of Sinister's headquarters, with four shots fired. He sat in the cell that he had been given, staring at the ground until Red Guardian came along to question him.

"What is your name?"

The man, dressed in a green and dark yellow jumpsuit, raised his head to reveal brown hair, green eyes and a face that Red Guardian knew he had seen before somewhere.

"My name is Jamie Madrox. Most people know me as Multiple Man."

* * *

Arclight was used to his boss being annoyed at certain turns of events, but normally his annoyance was controlled and repressed. This case, however, was different, as his frown now seemed to have been carved into his face.

"Arclight, when I first appointed you as my second in command, I had believed you to have been a valuable member of the team, with good skills of judgement and a sound idea as to what made a smart decision. Instead, you jeopardised the operation, forced me to abandon less critical research to our enemies, put most of the team at risk and left us vulnerable to an assault. What do you have to say for yourself?"

The second-in-command of the Marauders had no words to say at first. He'd never pictured himself being in this position.

"Master... I had only planned to serve you, to deal with your enemies and advance your plans further!" The words had meant to impress Sinister and redeem him in his eyes, but the only response he got was laughter.

"My plans cannot be advanced, nor can my enemies be dealt with, should my trusted lieutenant disrupt the mission in an effort to further his own success! Time and time again I have given you the opportunity to improve your performance, but to no avail. I have gone with a platform of not tolerating failure, and I intend to stick to it."

"But... but... you rescued me when the Winter Guard-"

Sinister reached out and struck him in the face before he could finish.

"I made sure that you could not leak valuable information, and were it not for Blockbuster pulling you into the truck I would have had you killed there and then instead. You have failed me as a second-in-command, Arclight, and for that your position has been given to Archangel. Be grateful that I have let you live, and don't get any not-so-clever ideas."

That was what finally shut him up, and he hung his head in fear of further reprisal, but nothing came.

"Now everybody leave. I need to revise my plan. Archangel," Sinister said, his eyes meeting his new lieutenant's gaze as he spoke. "Stay here. You have a new post, and new work that befits your abilities."

They waited in silence until all the Marauders had left the room.

"It is probable that Arclight will attempt to seize control of his old post once more. His ambition and pride will not cause him to take demotion well." The monotonous voice spoke matter-of-factly, simply saying what would happen.

"I agree. Arclight has been something of a wild card in recent weeks, but nevertheless he has not outlived his usefulness just yet, in spite of his failure. My newest scheme will involve both him and the Rasputins."

In spite of its stoic demeanour, Archangel sounded confused.

"Master, the Rasputins escaped capture with both Maverick and his daughter. They are lost to us."

It was true that the Rasputins had managed to evade being captured a second time, but Archangel was unaware of the plan Sinister had laid the ground for not too long before Maverick's intervention.

"Yes, the Rasputins are certainly tenacious, and for that I must give credit to them. However, before they escaped, I had enough time to finish my experiment and mission. It is true that Arclight cost me months worth of research, and for that he has paid the price, but my plans for the Rasputins do not require them to be in my grasp."

He turned to Archangel, face breaking into a smug, yet unnerving smile.

"My dear Archangel, the Rasputins are major players in the game that I have every intention of winning. You'll understand just what I've got planned soon enough."

* * *

The journey was long and tiresome, yet Piotr was strangely refreshed as the plane touched down at JFK International Airport. They had been awake for several hours, and he was certain that soon enough he would feel so jetlagged that he would be unable to stand, but he was back on American soil for the first time in well over a year, and it was now that he realised just how much he'd missed it. He wondered how long it would take for his mind to adapt to the American way of taking this wonderful land for granted, and he laughed, earning a few dirty looks from the other people on the plane.

The rest of the time at the airport was relatively painless, simply a matter of handing their new passports over to the security desk and picking up what little baggage they had brought over, although the Nords had taken more luggage on their way out than they had returned with. They walked through, passing through customs and entering the main building.

Waiting for them was the most wonderful sight he could have asked for at the time. Assembled by a bench were Kitty Pryde, Kurt Wagner, Ororo Munroe and Logan, who stood up almost immediately and rushed over to meet them. Kitty tried trapping Piotr in a bear hug, but given the size difference it wasn't exactly as easy to pull off as she'd been hoping, and eventually she gave up to move over for a group hug with Kurt. Ilyana nervously shook Ororo and Logan's hands, slightly unsure about the people she hadn't met before but putting a brave face on it.

Eventually, the group hug broke apart, with Ororo then hugging Piotr, clearly relieved to see him. When that hug ended, he turned his head to face Logan, who was unusually smiling for once in his life. Hands stretched out and shook each other, Piotr returning the smile.

"Welcome home."

* * *

**Translations:**

**Starshiy brat is Russian for "big brother". Lorry is the British English word for a truck as in a delivery truck, which is generally the kind of vehicle I meant when I talked about trucks, as it would be ridiculous for the Marauders to all squeeze into a pickup truck.**

**Yes, I know that this chapter went on for possibly a bit too long, and I had to cut out a bit of material to make room. The cut material will appear later on, but I felt it was better moved rather than adding extra padding.**

**Anyway... the first story arc is finally finished. It's taken three years to work it out, but for those of you who came back after I disappeared for far too long, thank you so much for your loyalty. It's been great, and I can't wait to get started on the next one. Keep the constructive criticism coming, and I will see you, hopefully soon, for the next story arc. The plan is that it will be called "Danger Ratings", but it could well change. Like the 1M to Save WATXM page on Facebook, and I'll see you next time. Take care :D**


	10. Danger Ratings, Part 1

**A/N: Hey guys. Hope you're all doing well. I've just been taking a couple of days out, in part because real life needed my attention.**

**Last "episode", the Rasputins eventually escaped from Sinister and reunited with the X-Men, Professor X awoke in some weird dystopian future and Magneto started to flee the US of A, among many other things.**

**Genosha**

Wanda Maximoff found herself struggling to draw herself to her full height in the presence of the people talking to her, even though they were only present through a video link and not actually standing in the room with her. It took all her effort to keep eye contact with the screen and the figures being shown on it.

At the top-left corner of the screen was a man in a dark longcoat, which covered a SHIELD uniform. His eyepatch was over his missing eye, with the stoic Maria Hill to his right and the angry Colonel Axton Moss to his left. As usual, Nick Fury did not lack in the dramatic department, his face stern and serious. Director Fury had taken the responsibility of negotiating on behalf of the United Nations in this case, or at least representing them in this first talk, owing to his experience in metahuman affairs.

At the top-right corner sat a man calmly staring at the screen, spectacles covering his face, with a few wrinkles and smart suit complimenting one another and showing that age had been reasonably kind to him, although in the past five weeks his age had started to catch up with him, even though he was a middle aged man and barely in his fifties at that. Senator Kelly found himself in the unusual position of being open to questions as well as the one asking them; years of work in the House and Senate had led to countless committee sessions.

Taking the bottom half of the screen was a man dressed in a pair of smart trousers, a red shirt, a dark business jacket and a white tie, his finely maintained beard and moustache clearly sticking out. It was quite obvious from the badly done up tie that this sort of smart outfit didn't really appeal to him for such a meeting, and Wanda was quite certain that when the meeting was done he'd instantly throw it in one of his many wardrobes and change into something more comfortable. This was the kind of guy that only played by the rules of others when it suited him; of course, when you were the head of a multi-billion dollar company and one of the few superheroes without a secret identity, that kind of attitude was probably understandable. If she'd been him, life would be so much more relaxed.

"I'd like to thank you all for taking the time to open this dialogue regarding the future of Genoshan operations with the United Nations and United States. I'm aware that we each have pressing matters of our own to attend to, so let's make this quick. If we have further business after discussing these issues, I shall make time to negotiate in the near future."

A nod of acknowledgement came from Director Fury and Maria Hill, with Colonel Moss reluctantly following with a grunt. It was obvious that so much as talking to a mutant that had a higher footing than he did was almost unbearable; clearly, he had not wanted to be involved in this negotiation and had either been strong-armed into it, or had chosen to minimise what he viewed as concessions to an invader.

For their part, Kelly and the newcomer didn't seem to be offended by the idea of a mutant leading a nation, politely nodding and giving a huge, childish grin, respectively.

"Colonel, relax. I've been looking forward to addressing the leader of the most prosperous mutant nation on Earth, particularly if said leader is Miss Maximoff."

Colonel Moss did not relax.

"I told you this was a bad idea, Director. Is there a reason that you let your pet hero into this diplomatic session, or did you just feel like annoying me? I want his line disconnected!"

"I'm sorry, Colonel, but my _pet hero_ as you call him commands one of the only superhero teams that we have direct access to as an organisation. The X-Men's loyalty in a situation such as this is presently uncertain- I know for a fact that there are certain team members who would willingly defend Genosha with their last breath," Fury commented, presumably glancing at Wanda as he did so. _Kurt_, she thought. _He's talking about Kurt_.

"He's annoying, Colonel, I know that firsthand."

"Hey!" The objection was an undignified one.

"Nevertheless, with the X-Men the wild card in this situation and the Fantastic Four too difficult to track down, the Avengers remain SHIELD's best hope at dealing with a situation. My consultant stays involved in this discussion, and whether or not you remain is up to you. Do I make myself clear?"

Moss didn't need to reply.

"Thank you, Director."

"Though do in fact shut up."

Wanda sighed mentally. The negotiations hadn't even started and already one of Fury's consultants had sparked a debate about something completely irrelevant. This was going to be a long discussion.

"If I might say a few words?"

Senator Kelly chose this moment to speak up.

"The first issue that I need to raise is that of reparations, both foreign and domestic. One of the major problems being faced in the disaster zone, aside from the obvious issue of those directly affected by the attacks, is that of infrastructure. Repairs to power and the various facilities needed for day to day life, such as sewage and sanitation, are underway, but progress is slow and the authorities are struggling to cope with the pressure. The United States is in desperate need of individuals that can fix this problem, Miss Maximoff, and you may well know several of them."

"You would ask for the help of mutants, Senator? After your previous platform?" Again, the acting head of the MRD was beginning another offensive rant.

"I understand your concerns, Colonel-"

"Do you? And why would you understand them?"

At this moment, Wanda's voice hardened, steeling her heart as she began to speak. She had done her best to be polite and not provoke their more controversial guest, but enough was enough.

"The United States wasn't the only country to feel Magneto's wrath, Axton. After the invasion, I had to banish my own father and brother after the countless people that the former hurt, the lives he destroyed and the places he razed. Yet my brother could not force himself to leave his side. So don't accuse me of not having the empathy for anyone on either side who was hurt or worse."

Evidently the Colonel being referred to by his first name had shocked him somewhat, to say nothing of this young woman verbally tearing into him. Fury's consultant nodded vigorously.

"I like her."

There was a moment of static from the SHIELD screen as Maria Hill leant behind her boss, removing Colonel Moss' microphone from his uniform. Some angry muttering briefly got picked up by Fury's own microphone, but stopped when the soldier realised he could no longer rant effectively.

"In response to your question, Senator Kelly," Wanda said, voice returning to normal. "We may well have a few people who are willing and able to help you repair the disaster area. It's just a matter of finding them first, although that shouldn't take too long. Blink?"

The pink mutant to her right entered the camera's sights, shyly gesturing to say hello.

"Begin searching the databases for any mutant with powers that may come in use for repairs or aid, such as enhanced strength, healing capabilities or telekinesis. Bring me a list as soon as you can, and we will narrow it down further to a shortlist of potential assistants. This is a good opportunity to heal relations between our nations, not to mention our species. And I will not see it go to waste."

With those words, Blink nodded and ran out of the room, searching for the library and databases available to the high families of Genosha, in this case Erik Lensherr's. She'd been expecting to have instantly lost power, but weirdly enough the population had cautiously accepted Wanda as their ruler... for now.

"I am pleased to hear that you are making swift movement on such important matters, Miss Maximoff," Senator Kelly beamed. "There is one thing I should mention, however. Since the invasion, the American public is split between approval and fear for mutants, in some cases feeling a mix of both. Nevertheless, my peers in Congress have encountered a rather... vocal minority, to say the least, a movement going by the unofficial name of _Friends of Humanity_. They have the backing of at least three major companies, and their membership has been rising rapidly in recent weeks, as most reactionary groups tend to experience. They're calling for Project Wideawake to be restarted, with improved funding and SHIELD backing, so as to improve the technology in the event that Magneto tries to get his hands on the Sentinels once again."

"Will you lend your support to this movement, Senator? It likely has a lot of political prestige and future career opportunities for you, perhaps even a run for the White House."

There was an awkward pause.

"...no, I will not. I made my decision to decommission Project Wideawake all those weeks ago, and I stick by it. The only regret I have about the decision, in hindsight, is not doing so earlier when diplomacy may still have talked Erik Lensherr down. With that said, at least three of my colleagues have pledged public support for the movement and more have been covertly donating to them, in fundraisers and in campaigns. It's all very hush-hush, of course, but as public support grows the truth will come out, and they'll make their beliefs very clear."

"Can we expect any big businesses to also donate in secret to them, alongside the ones giving it public backing already?"

"Possibly, Miss Maximoff. However, SHIELD has no plans to back the movement, in private or in public. Our only plans at present are to monitor this situation, alongside the other one presently being dealt with by my consultant and his colleagues." Fury appeared genuine in his statement, but there was no way to be sure when dealing with a spymaster. The whole point of his job was to lie and find out whatever people didn't want to openly reveal, or conceal it if they were allied with him. For now, she would have to reluctantly go with his word.

"And are we at risk of anyone else in this meeting giving backing?" She stared at the consultant intently, waiting to see what he had to say.

"Aside from Colonel Moss, probably not, Miss Maximoff. I have no plans for my company- or any of its offshoots- to become involved in such a movement. I've given the no-no to the other executives on the grounds of bad business, as well as ethics, of course. They likely don't all share my views, but if it means keeping their huge salaries and positions they'll keep their mouths shut and their wallets to themselves."

A moment's hesitation, then Director Fury spoke up.

"I believe that we'd better leave it there for now. We've made a good start in terms of reparations, but I'm afraid that there's more to finish. Try and keep your troops in line, Miss Maximoff, and SHIELD will have no reason to leave your side." With those words, he disconnected, before Colonel Moss could start talking again.

Senator Kelly politely nodded, also choosing that moment to disconnect. The consultant took a moment to hang around, his face now filling the whole screen. It suited his ego, she reflected.

"Miss Maximoff, it's been a pleasure. If you ever need help, drop a line to Pepper Potts, and I'll see to it that Stark Industries gets back to you ASAP." With that last remark, he hung up, the screen faded to black.

She sighed, reaching for the glass of water and draining it in one. That diplomatic session had been an exhausting one, and it had been extremely tempting to completely tear into the colonel and leave him with no room for manoeuvre, but to do so would have been disastrous. Colonel Moss may not have held the same standing that he used to, but he was still the head of the MRD, which was still a powerful organisation. It hadn't helped that the consultant had deliberately antagonised him, as funny as it may have been for her.

Wanda reached for the intercom.

"Blink, fetch me something to eat. That last conversation has left me rather drained."

Still, she at least knew that she had the backing of Stark Industries, as well as Senator Kelly's, although she questioned how long it would take SHIELD and the UN to actually support Genosha, if at all. The Mutant Response Division, for all its bigotry and trigger-happy behaviour, at least made their position clear from the start. There was one group that she could still contact, one group whose loyalty needed to be determined.

It was time to contact the X-Men once again.

**Wait... was that Tony Stark?**

**So, it was rather short compared to the last chapter of A Deal Near the Red Dawn, but the pace is still consistent, and I opted to upload what I can given that the next couple of days will also be a bit hectic- not rushing, just leaving you with what I have so far. **

**Those of you who have been watching the poll on my profile (if that makes any of you) will have noticed that Tony Stark was in the lead and has now appeared in the story (I probably would have had him appear anyway, but I chose to introduce him even earlier owing to demand on it- he will have more appearances, but they will not be that often). So, keep watching the poll and over time I'll do my best to add certain characters in. I'll obviously try to not make it too gratuitous, i.e. no Arcade working with the MRD.**

**Alright, see you at some point soon!**


	11. Danger Ratings, part 2

**A/N: Hi guys. I'm sorry again that the last chapter was so short, I was just extremely tired and wanted to put up **_**something**_** to keep the story going. Without further ado, here's Chapter 2 of Danger Ratings.**

* * *

**The X-Mansion**

The telephone rang early in the morning, much to the obvious chagrin of the man who answered it, rubbing one eye with his left hand as the other lazily dragged the covers away, clearly not used to being awake at this hour.

"Yeah, what is it?"

"Logan?"

The voice on the other end was familiar, but at the same time he couldn't match it to anyone he knew.

"That's me. Mind tellin' me who this is, before I hang up and get back to my beauty sleep?"

A polite laugh echoed down the line.

"I'm sorry to have woken you, but this is an emergency. Does the name Wanda Maximoff ring a bell to you?"

Instead of putting down the phone, he found himself standing there for a terse moment. He knew the name, but it took him a few seconds to put two and two together without making a fist of it.

"Am I talking to the mutant known as Scarlet Witch, presently _de facto_ leader of the nation called Genosha?"

"Yes, you are, although I would be happy if you just called me Wanda. Believe me, being called Lady Maximoff or anything else along those lines becomes rather annoying. I'll speak quickly, for my needs are unfortunately urgent."

_Probably for the best_, he thought, although he had the basic courtesy to not tick her off. Even given Genosha's weakened state and the fact that Scarlet Witch seemingly bore the X-Men no ill-will, it just seemed a dumb idea. Given the fact that the X-Men themselves were still considered the wild cards in the superhuman community at large, and the fact that Wanda Maximoff could prove surprisingly resilient and tenacious, he felt that it was better to try and play the diplomatic card.

"In recent weeks, I've been doing my utmost to make sure that Genosha doesn't become the new target of an international invasion, but it's been difficult to look after our citizens and see to their, with international pressure for my country to make reparations. It gets worse, I'm afraid."

"Oh, yeah? How much worse?" Again, he was wondering what bad news he was going to get. Was Magneto in the process of launching a coup against his daughter and her seemingly benevolent regime, or were there fugitives that had escaped their grasp?

"We believe somebody's kidnapping the mutants here."

This development made him raise his eyebrows in mild surprise and also stunned him awake. He wondered as to whether or not Sinister had decided to set up shop in Genosha and abducted people on the street, although he doubted that the scientist would stick his neck back in the line of fire so soon after his losses and with the Russian government declaring him a wanted man.

In any case, Wolverine figured that it would be better to investigate and get what little information would be available. The fact of the matter was that in spite of limited recovery in the capital city of Hammer Bay, Genosha as a whole was being treated by the United Nations as little better than a disaster area, with some still unrepaired infrastructural damage, countless wounded on top of at least two dozen dead, and limited order beyond the Acolytes under her command, a few of whom had either left on their own business or involuntarily, as Juggernaut had. Speaking of which, he really needed to decide what to do with their unwanted guest.

"Have you got any ideas as to who might be behind this?

"I don't have any confirmed guesses at the moment. Blink and I composed a list of top suspects which contains people such as Colonel Moss and the Inner Circle, although their reasons for doing so wouldn't make sense as the former's struggling to keep hold of what little power he has left and the latter are on the run. We have limited records, but none of the mutants abducted appear to have displayed any signs of telepathic ability, and acquiring the Phoenix Force was one of their top priorities."

"Genosha's presently an ideal hunting ground for mutants of all sorts, but I suppose that I'd better get down to business. If you're looking for help, I can't spare the whole team, but I could spare a few members if you give me an hour or two to choose them."

The sigh was probably louder than she would have wanted, although he wasn't entirely sure whether she was relieved or disappointed.

"Very well, I suppose that will have to do. Get back to me in an hour when you are ready, and I will arrange transportation."

And with those words, the line went dead, although that sort of conversation wasn't the one where you kept exchanging pleasantries with no regard for time. Pulling a jacket on over his shirt and grabbing a fresh pair of jeans from the drawer, he left the bedroom and went towards the command centre.

An hour and a half later, Wolverine's three-man strike team for the mission was assembled in front of the mansion, still rubbing sleep from their eyes and suppressing yawns as their bodies adjusted to being awoken at four in the morning.

"Alright. Hate to have woken you up from your beauty sleep, but we ain't exactly ones to be picky given our kind of lives. I've chosen you three because Scarlet Witch has requested your help with a little problem that she's been having in Genosha, not to mention the little things. Mutants keep disappearin' right under her nose, and she needs help sniffin' out the culprit. Beast, you're one of the leading experts in mutant biology, and right now Genosha's short of doctors- you need to help 'em set up. Nightcrawler, you're invaluable in combat and Maximoff keeps giving you that sorta look so that's an added bonus. Iceman, you'll be combat support and you'll help with part of the infrastructure."

"Wait," called a voice.

Wolverine and his proposed team turned around to see Storm walking towards them.

"You've assembled a good team, Wolverine, but they need a leader for this kind of operation. Don't tell me you were planning on leaving to oversee this?"

"No, but-"

"Charles appointed you to be our leader for this, and I will not see you leaving us on short notice again, even for something like this. You're not a bad leader, Logan, but your place is here, at least for now."

"My place is at the head of the X-Men. That's what leaders do, they _lead_!"

Storm looked him dead in the eye at that angry statement. She wasn't even irritated and she didn't raise her voice, but nevertheless he took a moment to calm down.

"Yes, Logan, but leaders need to know when stress is affecting their performance. You need a rest between operations. Let me take the reins for this mission. I promise you I won't let you down."

For a moment there was silence as Wolverine let the words sink in, and his breathing slowed back to normal.

"You're right, Ororo. I need to sit this one out, at least for now. I know you'll do alright in the field. Just take care of the team. I'm going back to bed. I'm sorry."

And with that, he slinked back indoors towards his bed, almost asleep before his head hit the pillows. The strike team could only look on in utter surprise, before standing to attention and nodding. It was decided.

At six o'clock, the small plane touched down outside the mansion's gates, with Storm boarding first, followed by Beast, then Iceman, and finally Nightcrawler. The four of them strapped themselves in, before they took off towards Genosha.

* * *

The short, stocky man found himself running forwards, misshapen feet weakly pounding against the floor as he struggled to propel himself forwards, his smooth scales feeling rather cold in the wind as the angry people behind him growled and jeered. It wasn't his fault, he told himself. He'd been asked to forward a supply package from one house to another, completely unaware that his fellow gang members had set him up and made it look like he was trying to blow everyone around him to smithereens. If they'd looked closer, they would have seen that the bomb didn't even work properly, but he supposed that such details weren't what you looked out for when a mutant as ugly as he did turned up with a suspicious box.

As he fled through the alleyway, he found himself approaching the main plaza, and he somehow managed to leap over the dumpster in his way, cutting through the war-torn square and skidding past debris, although his feet were feeling the worse for wear, clearly not designed for running. Heck, even walking took its toll on him sometimes, and yet he couldn't bring himself to stop. If he did that, he was as good as dead.

Eventually, he felt his muscles starting to tire, and the adrenaline coursing through his body seemed to fail as the pain in his body started ebbing through again. In desperation, he saw yet another alleyway leading to a part of the city he'd never been to before. For all he knew, it could lead to gangs worse than this, or even towards the authorities who would surely arrest him for being involved in this kind of business, but at that moment short-term interests managed to override any concerns, and he took another sharp turn into it, hoping that eventually his pursuers would lose interest.

What happened next was completely unexpected. Where one moment he had been running on concrete and past debris, the next his feet touched down on a metallic floor, surrounded by bizarrely shaped, metallic walls that didn't seem to make architectural sense from a humanoid point of view. It was at that moment that he turned his head towards the multi-limbed woman standing in the corner, arms all attending to the various tasks that had been given to her by whoever was in charge of this facility.

As if his looking at her had set off an alarm bell, she rapidly pressed a button, and before he could register it four stun beams slammed into his chest, the agony shooting through his chest. Not a few seconds later, he heard more bursts going off as his pursuers stumbled into where they were, cries of surprise echoing through the room.

Darkness overtook him and the others, and their unconscious bodies were dragged away by more multi-limbed humanoids, their leader angling their head towards the screen.

"Your instructions, my master?"

"We keep up the act until we have the X-Men's attention. Commercial interest in our operations has slumped to an all-time low, but spectator interest in a rematch has reached an all-time high. We snare the X-Men, particularly that obnoxious one with the tail, and our ratings and sponsorship deals will go through the roof!" The high-pitched voice echoed through the room, and Spiral raised an eyebrow as her master started laughing.

"With all due respect, sir, we have plenty of mutants to experiment on and drawing the attention of the X-Men tends to be counterproductive. Why don't we simply quit while we're ahead?"

"In my culture, quitting while you're ahead is bad for business. You can never milk the big hit too much; the critics may complain, but they make an absolute _killing_." He seemed to relish that word. "If I get defeated by the X-Men a third time, particularly that goofy elf-mutant, nobody will take me seriously, the population will question my right to rule, and I will soon be overthrown! And you know what that will mean, for your position, _and your life_."

Spiral sighed, turning away from the monitor.

"Yes, sir. We'll keep our operations running until further notice."

She cut off the call at that moment, though she chose not to say anything for fear of the room being bugged, or her boss having the ability to hear the first few seconds after she had hung up. After all, it happened all the time on TV, so why wouldn't her boss insist on it?

A couple of hours later, another man stumbled through, his body clearly not entirely under his control, and the process repeated itself once again.

* * *

Looking at the three screens that stood in front of him, Charles Xavier formed an idea about the city that he presently stood in. The first displayed what was essentially a slum, with water leaking into the makeshift huts through the corrugated iron roofs, generally unsanitary conditions, children playing whatever games they could and their parents looking on in concern, if they had any parents left to care for them. The second showed a tidier suburb, although there had obviously been serious damage of some sort inflicted to the area and the reconstruction was taking some time. The third revealed what must have been the area for the elite, with more pristine buildings surrounded by reinforced iron fences and electrified wire, with barbed wire, automated sentries and armoured guards.

Each part of the city was the same in a few respects, however. In every one, pedestrians kept their heads down and quietly went about their business while doing little to draw attention towards them, more Infinite soldiers patrolling the pavements as smaller assault vehicles filled the road. Civilian traffic was virtually nonexistent, save for a few beaten-up cars. It was clear to him that it was likely the same in the rest of the city.

Time was of the essence. He had to move quickly; doubtlessly, the prison would soon notice that he had gone missing. He marched towards a warehouse, noticing its ideal position as a temporary hiding spot. As he did so, a male pedestrian in his way immediately lowered his head and tried to speed up, hoping to escape from his clutches. It didn't work, and Xavier found himself dragging the man through the door of the warehouse, closing it behind him.

He waited a moment to see if anybody would react to him dragging a man off the street, but nothing happened. He sighed in relief, as the man blurted out excuses and begged.

"Please... I've done nothing."

He reached and removed the helmet from the top of his head, revealing his face to the pedestrian.

"It's alright. I'm not a soldier. I just need-"

What happened next was a clear indication to Xavier that things were _not_ alright. The man's expression changed from fear to surprise and outrage, and he slowly backed away.

"WHAT? Are you insane? I can't be seen with you! They-"

"Please, listen to me!"

"Get away!" That was the only reply that he got, and the pedestrian's arm turned to rock, slamming against the armour and knocking the professor backwards. He flew across the ground, to a painful stop. He winced as he looked up, to see the pedestrian running for the door. He sighed mentally. He hadn't wanted it to go this way, but if the man made it out, he would be recaptured and security would likely be tightened even further. He doubted he'd even be allowed the use of his legs.

Xavier extended his hand and concentrated, brow furrowing.

_Stop._

On cue, the pedestrian stopped as commanded, remaining perfectly still. As he did so, Charles forced himself to his feet and walked towards him.

_I simply want some information, and you're going to provide it to me._

His eyes closed completely now as he immersed himself in the man's memories, images, old broadcasts and newspaper articles passing him by. Then there was something that made him stand bolt upright, eyes flying open as he gave an alarmed gasp.

"No!"

As he took in the newfound- and evidently distressing- information, both men inside were unaware of the transport racing towards the warehouse, six Infinite soldiers gripping onto its sides, the way firemen would with a fire engine. In the interior, an officer stood in front of a scope that showed a wire-frame view of the street, with one green blip flashing inside the warehouse.

"Forty metres ahead, in that warehouse."

The transport skidded to a stop as the soldiers disembarked and rushed towards the entrance, weapons covering the door. As they did so, Charles Xavier heard the noise and immediately scolded himself for underestimating his enemies, Sinister in particular. The soldiers waited for a few, drawn-out seconds, barely breathing as they focused on the operation.

Then he man bolted from the building and ran in the opposite direction, helmet now on again. The two soldiers in the middle of the formation raised their right arms to reveal a different weapon to in the prison; whereas the plasma gauntlets had been designed to incapacitate, wound or perhaps kill, these were exclusively designed to stun, and only used on high-priority targets. Two bursts of energy were let loose, shooting out like javelins.

_POOM-POOM._

The two shots nailed Xavier in the back, and he flew forwards, landing in a limp heap. Before he had stopped moving entirely, two soldiers teleported up to him, grabbed him, and hoisted him up, one reaching for his comm. link.

"The fugitive has been apprehended."

Charles Xavier's helmeted head drooped forwards as he once again felt the darkness knock him unconscious.

* * *

**That just about does it for this chapter. This story has been in the pipeline for three years, but having Storm take the reins wasn't something I planned to originally do. It recently occurred to me that Cyclops could've done that, but that interferes with some character development I have planned for him so Storm's been delegated to leading. I thought "why not" as it's a good way to get her involved in the story beyond shocking people in the literal sense.**

**Thanks once again. Just gonna give some notice as to one or two things; there may or may not be an irregular schedule over the next couple of weeks as most of my mates are coming back from university, so there'll be a lot more meeting up with them. I've also signed up to do some extra work for some friends of mine at my old work experience place, so I may have less time to get stuff written down. Hopefully the next chapter will be up either before Christmas, or the New Year at the absolute latest. It will probably focus more on Charles Xavier than Storm and the strike team, but not entirely. See you next time!**


	12. Danger Ratings, Part 3

**A/N: Hello again, everyone! Sorry that this one's a bit late, but work and Christmas related stuff have been taking up more of my time. I hope you enjoy this regardless of the delay.**

**A minor note- I take a small degree of liberty with some dialogue taken from episode 26 and how a scene plays out, but I had been using a leaked script from the FB fanpage, which came out long after this story (and the previously published arc) had been planned out, and it was too difficult to rearrange things or drop the arc at such short notice, after some of it had already been published to boot. Had it happened just before, maybe things would've been different, but hey. This is fanfiction, so please forgive me. Enjoy!**

The officer disembarked from the transport, a smile forming underneath his helmet as he realised what this could perhaps mean for his career. This fugitive was considered a high-priority prisoner, and if he was successfully returned to custody, it could mean such rewards as genetic or cybernetic enhancement, yes, Sinister was an expert in those fields. Of course, he would not push his master for such a reward, to do so would be foolish; Sinister tended to reward those that he knew would continually prove their worth and despised open glory-hogging unless _his_ master was the one doing it.

He reached for the prone form of Charles Xavier, going down on one knee and fumbling as he struggled to find the handle for the helmet, pulling up as he eventually got a hold of it-

-but when he pulled the helmet off the prone man's head, he discovered that the man in question had a head full of hair, was at least twenty years younger than the escapee, and quite simply wasn't who they were looking for. His face was weak and battered, and clearly Xavier must have pulled him in off the street.

"It's not him! Check inside!" All traces of smugness had gone from his voice as he barked the orders to the teleporting soldiers, who disappeared and reappeared in the interior part of the warehouse, fists ready to fire as they both covered one another's backs. There was a momentary pause as one of them stared towards the far door, expecting to see him running towards it and opening it, but it was already ajar.

"He's not here, sir!"

Outside, the officer was struggling to keep his cool, sprinting towards the transport and climbing back inside, struggling to catch his breath. Behind him, some of the soldiers were starting to do the same.

"If he's not there, then he can't be far away! We don't return to the Pens without him, or Sinister will have our heads! Get back on the transport, all of you!"

The two teleporting soldiers left the confines of the warehouse, likely making an effort to get ahead of the prisoner, and as they did so the last few soldiers that hadn't grabbed hold of the transport's alcoves clambered back in, before the vehicle took off down the street, to the alarm of the pedestrians.

"No more games. If we corner him again and he tries to make a run for it, we go for the kill solution."

**The Citadel**

It was surprisingly easy to forget that the Citadel was being suspended in the air once you spent enough time inside. While the majority of the prisoners were kept in the Pens for ease of transport and security, a few special individuals, mostly secret science experiments, had been granted the honour of residence here, and the dungeons may have been small in comparison, but by their own merits they still held a noteworthy amount of people, even with some cells being left empty. In the unlikely event that you were able to navigate through the prison, there was the additional distraction of the backup generators, in the event that the power station below was to fail and disable the energy beam holding it aloft, and then the dining facilities, food storage, armoury, and personal quarters alone took up a good chunk of space.

The man in the shadows smiled, as crowds gathered below on the elevated platforms. Stealing a brief glance over the edge of the balcony, taking care not to reveal himself too early to the masses below, he saw that attendance was high once again. It had never been said that it was compulsory to arrive for decree, but in the mind of Lord Apocalypse it was a good way to weed out some dissenters, and for that reason the intelligence services kept an absence record, with three absences earning the dissenters an unspecified amount of time in the Pens, from which exit was never guaranteed.

His thoughts were distracted as he saw an air carrier soar through the air towards the docking port of the Citadel, the wide door opening to grant it passage. He waited a few minutes, having a good idea as to who was onboard and making their way towards him. Surely enough, his guesses were validated as the staging room doors parted to let in Mister Sinister.

"I hear that a prisoner has escaped from the Pens, master," Cyclops said, smiling as he stood in a cool and collected stance. For anyone else, the sight would have been menacing, in no small part owing to the eyepatch covering one eye and the glowing visor covering the other. For Sinister, it was just melodramatic, and he paid the gesture no attention as he took a position on the right side of the doors, afternoon sunlight flooding in from a side window, accompanied the cheers of the unseen masses.

"It's nothing."

"Nothing?" Cyclops was clearly sceptical, and his face made no effort to hide it. "That's never happened before. Who was it?"

"Unimportant," Sinister bluntly replied. "The Pale Riders are taking over the search. The escapee won't have long left to enjoy his freedom."

A moment passed where neither of them spoke, and the cheering filled the silence before Cyclops chose to try and restart the conversation.

"You should never have put Havok in charge of the Pens. He's too undisciplined."

"Havok will do fine, Cyclops." The reply was short, but the tone of voice clearly stated that this was not an argument to have now, if at all. Sinister turned towards the balcony doors.

"Now... on to more significant matters. Let's prepare our citizens for their master's appearance."

As the pair stepped into the blinding sunlight, they heard the crowd erupt, with enthusiastic cheering from all sides.

**Pale Rider compound- exterior**

Xavier raced up to the stone wall, now in little more than his prisoner gear, although he had reluctantly stolen the pedestrian's coat in order to cover up. He ducked out of sight as he kept an eye on the winged figure in the sky. It didn't appear to be anyone he recognised as first, but gradually the conversations with Logan came back to him. He had mentioned something about Sinister abducting Warren after promising to restore his wings, but he had not mentioned all the details about the surgery that Warren had undergone.

Blue, with metal wings, Archangel soared overhead towards what had once been the Xavier Institute, only it had been changed from a place of knowledge and sanctuary to a military facility. While the X-Men operated out of the Xavier Institute and had installed multiple defences, it had been in the interest of the mutants there. This was something different.

As Archangel glided onto the roof, he passed over dozens of Infinite Soldiers and at least five transports, with the old defence turrets having been upgraded from machine guns to a mixture of plasma turrets and heavy lasers, with a few anti-aircraft batteries scattered around the compound. Xavier ducked behind a bush as he heard the approach of a motorbike, and turned to see its sleek and black form.

On top of the bike sat a woman clad in dark red gear, blonde hair going past her shoulders. He didn't know it, but her name was Candra, and she was a mutant that possessed the power of telekinesis, which she could use both offensively and medicinally, to heal her own body and stave off the natural aging process. She pulled up to the gate, waiting until it opened to grant her access to the facility.

As the gate began to close again, Xavier moved away, clinging to the wall as much as possible, and he eventually reached another bush and lifting it aside, revealing it to be the entrance to a tunnel. He crawled through, taking care to shut it behind him as he went in. Minutes later, he lifted a large rock near the rear wall of the compound that covered the access shaft, and placed it back once he had climbed out. It made a good hatch for the tunnel, he reflected, being glad he had not informed many people of the tunnel's existence.

With that thought, he found the second hatch, lifting it and beginning his descent. This plan he had would likely not buy the X-Men much time, but it had to be attempted. They needed to be given all the details.

This nightmarish world was one that scared him, and he dreaded to think who was behind it.

**Pale Rider compound interior, planning room**

The room that the Pale Riders were about to enter had once been the X-Men's dining room, where students, teachers and operatives had eaten together. For many of them, it had been the closest that they had to family meals. Those days had long since passed, and where there had once been tables, trays and comfortable chairs, there were now holo-maps, consoles and sleek terminals lining the walls, complimented by the banners that hung down, each covered by pyramid symbols.

From one of the far doors entered a man clad in plate armour, designed to resemble a Japanese samurai, although the colour scheme was not necessarily a usual one. On various parts of the armour were red studs to compliment the gunmetal grey plating, with a golden utility belt and a giant broadsword. On his forehead was a red, upside-down Omega symbol tattoo.

As Silver Samurai entered the room, he was flanked by both Candra and Archangel, as the door opposite to them slid open to reveal a dark-haired woman, clad in equally black, relatively revealing clothing- specifically a dress, leggings and gloves that covered most of her arm, with boots that went up to her knees and a dark cape trailing from her shoulders.

"Selene, you summoned us. Is there a reason for this, or should we return to hunting Human High Council resistance members in the Badlands?"

The only response that Silver Samurai got at first was a frown.

"Yes, Harada, there is a reason that I chose to recall the three of you from dealing with hostiles on our turf." As she said this, she brought up a photograph of Charles Xavier on one of the terminal screens.

"We've done our best to keep the story under wraps, but this prisoner recently escaped from solitary confinement in the Pens. Initial efforts to recapture him have been... disappointing, and the Infinites have lost the fugitive. The hunt goes to us, now."

Candra walked over to the holo-map, touching a location to magnify on it. A more detailed scan of the industrial area appeared, with a marker flashing near one of the warehouses.

"He was last seen here, in district eighty-three. The Three-In-One are scanning for him now."

**Same time, Sublevel Storage Room**

The back wall of the storage room slid away to reveal the tunnel that had led from outside the mansion, power cables and conduits scattered almost everywhere. Xavier emerged from the tunnel, put the wall back into its rightful place, and moved towards the door at the end.

Opening the door so that it was ajar, he stole a glance to the left and to the right to make sure the coast was clear, then began sneaking down the corridor. What he saw was slightly unexpected, but compared to the airborne, pyramid-shaped Citadel and the vision he had from checking the pedestrian's mind, it was small peas.

The three women sat in front of a modified Cerebro, each wearing headgear and focused on their own set of floating images out in the sphere. He thought that they were three of the five Stepford Cuckoos, but was not entirely sure as to their names. No matter, this had to be done, and fast.

The shadowy figures on Cerebro's displays drifted past and dissipated in front of them, until the focus began to shift away from the war zone that they had been watching and the form of Xavier solidified enough to show that he was in the chamber and right behind them. The one on the right turned, startled to see him there, fingers at his temple and glare levelled at them.

"Goodnight, girls."

All three collapsed from their chairs and slid to the floor as he seized one of their headgear units, slipping it onto his head and taking a seat. He placed his hands on the flat screens- he was used to using Cerebro, but it was really necessary in this case to amplify its power.

He desperately hoped that Logan, or at least somebody, would be around to answer his call.

**Xavier Mansion, Present Day**

The prone form of Charles Xavier lay propped up on the bed, joined to the life support machinery that had been set up next to him by a series of tubes and wires that monitored everything from blood pressure to brain waves. Opposite the machinery sat Logan, although he was leaning on his knees, having been there for a long time.

_Logan, Logan? Can you hear me?_

The voice was distorted, but enough to cause Logan to bolt upright, now standing.

"Charles? Charles? Yeah... I hear ya. What happened? We've been waiting to-"

**Cerebro Chamber, Unknown Future**

"I'm sorry, we haven't much time," Xavier replied, seeing Logan's face appear as a vaporous, astral image on the display. "Please assemble the X-Men. When you do, I'll fill you in on everything."

"You got it. I'll get everyone who's around and hail everyone else to get back here," Logan said, rushing offscreen and yelling for somebody.

**Pale Rider Institute Terrace, Unknown Future**

Selene stared out over the city towards the sound of the chanting and cheering crowds. She had to strain to hear, but their cries could be faintly understood. It was weird to think that for this continent, this was the closest that any mutant had to paradise.

"_Apocalypse, Apocalypse, Apocalypse!"_

She raised a hand to her comm.

"Girls? I expected an update from you by now. Has any progress been made?"

She turned and entered the main building, now concerned.

"Phoebe? Celeste? Mindee, answer me, any of you."

Not getting a reply, she frowned, and strode into the planning room, hitting an alarm. Instantly, Candra and Silver Samurai reappeared in front of her. She knew Archangel was patrolling the airspace of the institute, so the three of them would be enough.

"Candra, cover the main exits of the complex and take as many soldiers as you need to do so. Samurai, you take over the main walls and call in for reinforcements from the city."

"All this for one man?" Candra scoffed.

"Lord Apocalypse managed to unite his warriors under his banner because they feared him, and he is just one individual, as powerful and great as he may be. I am aware that our target may not approach Lord Apocalypse in terms of power and vision, but never again dismiss a target because they are just _one man_," Selene shot back, making certain that the scorn in her voice was clear. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, madam," came the somewhat sheepish reply.

"As for me, I will deal with a situation that appears to have developed below. The Cuckoo trio is not responding to my messages. Given the fugitive and his efforts to derail things, he's almost certainly behind this," she stated, matter-of-factly, as she marched towards the lift, calling it up and getting inside in order to head downstairs.

**Xavier Mansion, Present Day**

The image of an anxious Charles Xavier looking at the chamber doors greeted Logan, Scott, Jean, Kitty, Rogue, Forge, Tildie and Piotr as they walked into the room to speak to him.

"Okay, Chuck. This is everybody that we could get on short notice. Storm's off with Iceman, Beast and Nightcrawler in Genosha, but we'll try to get a hold of 'em once you've filled us in."

Xavier smiled.

"Greetings, my X-Men," echoed his reassuring voice. He took a moment to pause and beam at Jean. "Hello, Jean. I've missed you. Piotr, it is great to see you as well."

"I've missed you too, Professor," came the sheepish but sincere reply from both of them.

"It's truly wonderful to see all of you- well, _most_ of you- again."

Logan took a breath. He was pleased that the reunion seemed to be going well, but it was time to cut to the chase.

"So, uh... we're kinda dying to know. How did we do?"

"I congratulate everyone," the Professor said. "You not only stopped the war, you saved the world from the Phoenix, _and_ prevented the rise of the Sentinels. Indeed, you've changed the course of the future."

It was at this point that the smile vanished from his face, replaced by a hint of sorrow.

"However, I fear our fight has only just begun."

**Cerebro Chamber Exterior, Unknown Future**

The lift doors opened as Selene walked out, heading towards the chamber door. She could faintly make out multiple voices, although none of them sounded like the Cuckoos, who seldom talked while working in any case.

**Cerebro Chamber Interior, Same Time**

Xavier continued talking as the spectral image of the X-Men flickered on the display screen.

"There is still much for me to learn, but there is one thing that I know for certain. A mutant tyrant has risen to power. He calls himself Apocalypse, and his empire is mighty. He's aided by somebody you know all too well. Sinister. "

He could see that Jean wasn't particularly happy to hear this piece of information, and Scott was equally nonplussed. He could hardly blame them, but he needed to keep talking.

"But the most alarming discovery of all is that... mutants are the dominant species, because humanity has been all but wiped out."

The looks on everyone's faces could only be described as horrified.

"Their fate is still a mystery, but-"

**Xavier Mansion, present day**

He didn't get a chance to finish the sentence, and the X-Men saw his image wisp away with an alarmed gasp. Logan rushed to the clear dome that housed his body back in the present, deathly silent for a moment.

"Charles? Charles!"

There was no reply, and his image did not return.

"Get hold of Ororo! Tell her that Genosha needs to be put on hold for now and that she needs to get back here NOW!"

Kitty stared at the communication console, realising that she couldn't get through to any of their comms.

"I can't get hold of them! Something's blocking their signals!"

**I have more to write on Charles Xavier, but I felt that it was best to save it for a later point. I wanted to make some progress on the AoA front, however limited, in part because I haven't shown too much of it until recently; even now, there's much still to explore.**

**I'm writing this last part of the post-chapter thing because I don't know if I'll get to upload before New Year, or before I head off to France to work for three months. I just want to thank everyone **_**so**_** much for their support; the last two months of writing on Fanfiction have easily been my best. If you haven't, drop me a constructive review, vote on my profile's poll and recommend it to your friends. If anyone's on the "1M to Save WATXM" FB page, a share on there would be appreciated. **

**Hopefully, the next chapter will be up before the 5****th**** January. If it's not, then I'll upload a filler chapter explaining my complicated schedule before an actual chapter is made- when stuff gets sorted out I'll remove the filler chapter.**

**Okay, this is getting into TL;DR territory, so I'm signing off. Take care!**


	13. Danger Ratings, Part 4

**A/N: Hi, everyone! I'm really sorry I'm so late, but I've given enough excuses already. Let's just get down to business.**

**Just a couple of notes, I've done a few changes as I realised that in spite of my generally successful effort to correct poorly-done research and glaring continuity errors, there were a few minor and major ones that still stuck out, both from the show and in terms of my own work. These appear to have been wiped out, but if anyone has the time to message me, or point it out in a review if messaging takes too long (but private messaging is preferable), I'll do my best to correct it. I hope the changes don't throw anyone off if they're re-reading the fic. Thanks so much!**

* * *

**Genosha, Present Day (Several hours before the end events of Danger Ratings, Chapter 3)**

The plane came around for the final run as it began its descent towards the island nation that lay directly below it.

"So how long have these kidnappings been going on for?" Beast yelled over the roar of the engine, having no other choice if he wanted to be heard.

"I'm not entirely sure," replied the pilot. "Official records have them going back as far as a week ago, but Lady Maximoff reckons that they've been happening for much longer than that. It's just that they've started picking up the pace and going into overdrive. At first, somebody would just go missing and we put it down to the gangs that started forming after the Sentinels attacked. Then two people would go missing, then three, then four, then five, you get the idea. We started doing head counts as best we could, but that just told us who was missing, not who'd been kidnapped already, or who'd been doing the kidnapping."

"And you've been unable to get the United Nations in to help on this one? They must have sent somebody over."

"We tried that. They sent a few peacekeepers to monitor the situation. The kidnappings stopped, and we even found one or two of the missing mutants. They left, assuming the situation had stabilised."

The pilot didn't need to explain what had happened afterwards, and the plane continued its descent towards what was clearly supposed to function as a runway. In reality, it merely looked like a minimal amount of debris had been cleared out the way, with long strips of wreckage hastily strewn together and smoothed out.

"That's supposed to be a _runway_?" Iceman was clearly alarmed by the sight. "You seriously take off from that?"

"Yep. Hold onto your seats. This is going to get pretty bumpy."

* * *

**Pacific Ocean**

The view from the ship was what could describe as fantastic, and for a few moments Erik Lensherr sat on one of the benches outside, not consumed by his thoughts. The sun was almost shimmering off the sea, as it slowly angled away behind the clouds. In an hour or two, it would disappear, and not appear again until the next morning at the earliest. That was the reason that he still remained on deck, instead of heading inside to his dark cabin, as it kept his thoughts at bay and gave his mind peace.

He waited for what he thought was only a minute, staring out towards the sea, so absorbed in the sight that he didn't notice half an hour pass him by, or even hear the people opening the door to join him, then heading back inside when they realised he wasn't fully paying attention to those around him.

Eventually, the sun finally set and he found his head filled with thoughts about what was happening in the world around him. In spite of the fact that Wanda and Lorna had banished him, and regardless of Pietro's turning him away, he wondered what was going on. When he had last seen his daughters, they had been outraged by his actions and banished him from the nation that he had almost completely burned to the ground, as he now supposed they should have. Pietro hadn't been faring much better either, clearly suffering from mental trauma and struggling to keep himself together. It seemed to him- no, it was _true_- that everything he loved and held dear was now in ruin.

Then his mind flashed back many decades, back to when he had been younger and living a quieter life with a woman who had once been his wife, although short of a photograph which he had been forced to leave behind in Genosha he had few memories left of her, most of them since overshadowed by tragedy, notably the death of Anya and Magda fleeing him in fear after his subsequent outrage and manifestation of his powers. He remembered how helpless he had felt as he had failed to save her, and how five men had held him back as he had tried in vain to resuscitate her, to bring her back.

If she were still alive, how would she look at the man that now sat on the bench? Would she have disowned him straight away, like Wanda and Lorna? Would she have turned on him later, like Pietro?

In a way, he was glad that she could not see the man her father had become.

The clouds above darkened, and he heard the rain drip down onto the deck, feeling it start to soak his face. Erik Lensherr finally rose from the bench, opened the door, and returned to his cabin, hoping that sleep would grant him some more peace.

* * *

**Genosha**

"Next time, could you just send Blink over here, to pick us up instead?"

The pilot did not reply, presumably taking offence to Iceman's comments.

"Bobby, hush," Storm scolded. "We have been invited here as guests and so we can provide aid. The last thing we need to do is spit in our own backyard."

"I'm pretty sure that isn't the exact phrase."

Again, nobody replied, and they walked down the nearly ruined street in silence, heading towards what remained of the palace Magneto had once lived in. All things considered, it seemed to have weathered the Sentinel attack relatively well, although some structural damage was faintly visible if you looked closely enough, with some walls being supported to prevent them tumbling down, and numerous makeshift support beams were positioned underneath the walkways, which were in dire need of repair.

As they passed, they noticed the houses and apartments surrounding them were stuffed to the brim with men, women and children, presumably with nowhere else to stay apart from the streets. Bins outside the houses were overflowing with rubbish, and it was obvious that somewhere along the street, several water pipes had burst, with several drains struggling to deal with the spillage.

"When I was last here, this area was filled with children playing and families. Now, it is almost unrecognisable," muttered Nightcrawler, clearly struggling to cope with the upsetting sight of such a place.

"Best steel your heart, stranger," the pilot said. "This area's been getting better since the attack, believe it or not. There are plenty of other streets where there's nowhere to stay at all, and nobody has any running water. At least here the crime rates have dropped, and the houses have been rebuilt. Come on, we need to see Lady Maximoff. She's doubtlessly been waiting a while."

There was no further discussion as they finally reached the palace gates, with a pair of suspicious guards pointing some sort of scanner their way, Polaris standing nearby to oversee security. It was tempting to almost ask why such a scanner was necessary, as almost everyone on Genosha seemed to be a mutant anyway, although Beast supposed it was likely a way of trying to catch out any potential shapeshifters and make sure people actually were who they claimed to be. Given the situation, it probably would be tempting to enter and claim to be a member of the nobility, if only to escape the almost unbearable life outside.

"Lady Maximoff will be waiting for you in the council room. Please enter."

The gates parted as Polaris raised both her hands, and the pilot took his leave as Storm walked into the palace first, followed by her team members as the gates closed again. Inside, more guards led them up the flight of stairs, towards a large pair of mahogany doors which opened to reveal an oval table, surrounded by several comfortable chairs. The walls were surprisingly bare, although the team suspected that portraits of Magneto and his ideal vision of Genosha had once been there for all to see.

At the head of the table sat a woman clad mostly in dark red, brown hair reaching halfway down her back, partially obscured by a scarlet crown from the front. A cape fell from her shoulders, although it had evidently seen better days, being slightly frayed at the edges. A pair of dark blue eyes stared in surprise at them for a moment, as if she hadn't expected to see anybody at all.

_She doesn't trust Wolverine to stick to his word in such a difficult period of time,_ Nightcrawler thought. He supposed that it made sense at the end of the day, given her precarious position as Genosha's new head of state. _This is her way of seeing where the whole team stands when push comes to shove_.

"Storm, Beast, Iceman, Kurt," Scarlet Witch declared, smiling subtly in Kurt's direction. "Thank you all for coming here at such short notice. I take it you were filled in on the details during the trip?"

Storm nodded.

"Yes, thank you. Your pilot was surprisingly knowledgeable in terms of the kidnapping problem. Logan apologises for not coming personally."

"No apologies necessary, Ororo. Truth be told, I'm glad he's getting a bit of rest. That man sounded like he'd barely gotten to sleep."

There was an awkward silence, as Wanda realised she had said too much and spoken too freely. Even if she was in charge of Genosha and the X-Men were on relatively peaceful terms with her, insulting her guests wasn't a smart move. She made a mental note to keep her tongue in check, and cleared her throat.

"Anyway... let's get down to business."

The team moved forwards to sit around the table, Scarlet Witch also pulling up a chair. As they did so, a list of medical statistics was passed to beast, whereas Iceman was given a file regarding infrastructural damage and Nightcrawler was handed a file on gang activity. As each went over their respective documents, a portal opened on the same floor as the council room, and a multi-armed figure emerged, barely breaking stride as she knocked out a pair of nearby guards that came to investigate. Behind her, two bulkier Reavers appeared behind her as the portal closed, both heavily armed and looking eager for combat.

Quickly, they began marching towards the council chamber.

* * *

**Okay, I'm aware that not only is this a rather small instalment which doesn't quite pick up from the cliffhanger where we left off (with the cliffhanger of this one being a little lacklustre), but I'm also conscious of the fact that development of this chapter has been extremely slow, in no small part due to work. One of the reasons for this is that I ended up rewriting quite a few scenes over and over again. I was originally going to make the scene with Magneto longer, with him chatting with a Japanese guy who'd lost his family in World War II. I wanted a parallel between Magneto and somebody else who'd suffered in a similar way to him, but unlike him eventually moved on. Unfortunately, I just felt the scene would be a bit boring for some, and I'd like to try fitting an already existing character in the mix from Marvel canon in general into the story, rather than make an OC with that big a role, at least at this point. A lot of OC characters tend to become polarising at best if given a big role (that's not to say that there are no good ones, it's just difficult to pull off), and I didn't want people to feel that Magneto was being overshadowed in his own section by some random guy with no name.**

**Some good/bad news. My travels and work haven't quite worked out the way I expected, in the sense that things seem to be wrapping up even earlier than I'd feared. This does give me the plus of, hopefully soon-ish, having more time to write and get Danger Ratings finished, hopefully by the end of March. I've also had a lot of time to think about story arcs to do in the future, as well as insert some characters into the mix, and I'm pretty excited.**

**Anyways, I promise that Magneto's angst arc will come to an end eventually; with that said, he's still not as humbled as his sins require he should be, so it may be a few chapters yet, probably even into the next story arc. Thanks for all your support once again, it really means a lot to me!**


	14. Danger Ratings, Part 5

**A/N: Hey all. I'm really sorry that this chapter has taken so long. I am finally in the UK again and have just been readjusting to life here again, and got a new job which is pretty awesome. Hope your lives are going well.**

**Alright, this chapter has a bit more about Charles Xavier, but Storm and pals are back in the spotlight for a short while. Reviews are much appreciated, and I've decided that for the most part I'm gonna respond to them in this section here, so if you have a query I'll do my best to answer it.**

* * *

**Genosha, Present Day**

Discussion of the affairs of Genosha had only been going on for a matter of a few minutes, although Bobby Drake found himself already bored and struggling to stay focused. In the days where the school had actually felt like a school, he had never exactly slacked off, but being the class clown was how he enjoyed behaving. It gave him a way to feel relaxed and let off some steam, particularly when dealing with the know-it-all students such as Jean, as well as the then-uptight Warren. In a way, it was his perfect defence mechanism, although a consequence of this was that his attention span left something to be desired.

Two things promptly jolted him back to reality. The first was a subtle kick aimed at him from under the table to force him awake, presumably from Nightcrawler. The next was the sound of a scuffle between two guards outside and some combatants, although it didn't last long as someone began pounding on the door, eventually managing to break in.

All talk about politics immediately subsided shortly before the flashbang grenade went off, causing him and most of the others in the room to be blinded. In the ensuing scuffle, he failed to notice the portals opening behind him, as somebody big kicked him in the abdomen and he was sent flying through it, falling briefly before he landed on a hard, stone surface. Next to be knocked out was Beast, as the largest of the Readers grabbed his arms, using them as a lever to throw him out of the room so that he landed next to Bobby. Kurt followed not long after, having unwittingly teleported in front of a portal that materialised milliseconds after he had landed.

The trio waited a few seconds as they expected to hear another portal opening and either Storm or Scarlet Witch to join them in what appeared to be their prison, even glancing up towards the ceiling, but strangely enough they never arrived. There wasn't even the sound of a scuffle.

"Perhaps they've been taken somewhere else?" Bobby suggested.

"If they've even been taken alive, that is."

Nightcrawler pondered Beast's suggestion.

"If this is who I think it is, then simple murder is not his style. Come on," he said, stretching out his hands to the other two, briefly glancing out through a barred window to what appeared to be a forest. "We need to get out of here and try to figure out where we are, though if I'm right with my guessing it might not do us much good."

Both of his colleagues took his hands, and the three of them teleported out of the room, seemingly unaware or uncaring of the miniature camera that had been focusing on their every move. From a control station, an inhuman face stared at a series of monitors, grinning hideously as the mutants began what they assumed to be their escape.

"Very dramatic, wouldn't you agree, Spiral?"

The leader of the Reavers grimaced at Mojo's repulsive laughter, frowning at the screen.

"Sir, as much as I dread to question your impeccable taste for the dramatic, would it not have simply been wiser to put an inhibitor collar on Nightcrawler and leave the other two to their fates?"

The question was laced with sarcasm and scorn, and for once her master picked up the fact that he was being mocked.

"Do you know what makes good television, Spiral? Do you think that an audience tunes in to watch the hero helplessly struggle as the headsman raises his sword, with no prospect of escape whatsoever? Granted, audiences are more cynical than they used to be, but no would be the normal answer. This is how the show goes, because it's what makes the crowd cheer."

Spiral was unsurprised with the answer, but that did not mean that she was satisfied. Her position as head of the Reavers meant that a certain degree of grovelling and sycophantic behaviour was required, but she knew that beyond a certain point she was supposed to intervene.

"So it has nothing to do with the fact that your network is in decline, or that your finances are up in the air, leaving your flagship programming uncertain?"

His red eyes almost seemed to glow as he struggled to keep his anger in check.

"Choose your next words _very_ carefully, Spiral. While I expect a degree of advice from you, your team has failed to capture either Storm or the Scarlet Witch, and with either of them on the loose the script has been derailed. My temper is nearly at its end, and you know what happens when I lose my temper."

For a moment, she wanted to slap him and shout at him until her throat was raw, but they both knew that the point she would raise was one that had been discussed many times before. Reluctantly, she sighed, knowing that sooner or later her boss would either get it right or be replaced by someone else.

"Financing a television show is a complicated business, as I'm sure you'll know. It is for that reason that the spotlight must be on the X-Men one last time. Once they are safely dead and Scarlet Witch is my captive, I can exploit Genosha's last resources and prove myself once more."

At that point, he turned away, chair floating back towards the monitors as he pressed a button, causing a series of turrets to pop up and force the X-Men towards a series of hills.

"I know how the story goes. This is where, through sheer escalation, I up my efforts in an effort to improve the drama. Losses are heavy on both sides, but in the end I win and the heroes fall."

* * *

**Interior Cerebro Chamber- Unknown Future**

Charles Xavier was presently incapable of saying much, although his face was clearly in agony, eyes wide and rigid as a blurring effect spread over his face. It was almost as if vapours were being physically extracted, with his body soon to be little more than a withered husk.

Behind him, the door closed as Selene slowly marched forwards, hand raised as she calmly drained his life force.

"Bravo, Professor. It's hard not to be impressed. Few have managed to escape from the Pens."

He strained to rise as he pulled the headgear away and dropped it, turning to face her. Two fingers quickly went towards his temples, his glare levelling towards her. For the briefest of moments she flinched backwards, although it wasn't to last as a previously unseen red diamond protruded from her forehead. He tried again, but all he met was insurmountable resistance as he collapsed to his knees.

"But your fight to freedom ends here."

He fell forwards, eyes fluttering as his head went towards the ground.

* * *

**Unknown location**

The X-Men picked up the pace as they heard what they assumed to be footsteps, Nightcrawler teleporting up to the treetops in an effort to see what challenges lay ahead.

"So let me get this straight. This guy isn't just some run of the mill kidnapper? And he has some seriously petty vendetta against you because of one incident en route to Genosha?"

In spite of the fact that Bobby Drake lived in a world where being a mutant gave you the power to shoot beams from your eyes, lift objects telekinetically, or even raze an entire continent to the ground with the ability to control the weather, extraterrestrial life was something that he just struggled to comprehend. Had it not been a case of severe shock, which Beast was attributing it to, he'd be scoffing, but he knew that mocking Bobby's doubt wouldn't exactly help.

"When you say one incident, Bobby, it was more like one case of them attacking me and then a follow-up case of them kidnapping me and leaving me and Scarlet Witch to die underwater. Otherwise, yes. Mojo is essentially an alien media mogul that makes money torturing desperate beings such as our good selves, and reception to his second serial starring me must not have been what he'd hoped for."

It was at that moment that the disembodied, almost demonic voice chose to cut in.

"_Implying that about my last show starring you, the so called _Amazing Nightcrawler,_ would be a _major_ understatement. The efforts of you and Scarlet Witch indirectly ruined my career. My viewership had peaked after you brought attention to the network and became an overnight sensation."_

The laughter that followed was not the joyful laughter that Nightcrawler had heard before in the undersea arena. It was deeper and more sarcastic, as if he was trying to hide something and failing. They kept running through the woods with the same scouting technique as before, but the subsequent ranting did not get any quieter.

"_Do you fools know the problem of overnight sensations? Given enough time, they fizzle out. Your human media is rife with such examples, yet as soon as another star rises the crowds start worshipping and praying. Viewer reaction to your return was... underwhelmed. It was hardly negative, but the ratings fell and the Council of the Spineless Ones cut my funding. Nothing I did drew the crowds back."_

His voice was now more level, but it was still clear that Mojo was not his usual self.

"_It's all because of you, Nightcrawler. Now I find myself having stolen money from the Council, and at the head of a diminished group of Reavers, all in a final, desperate bid to regain control and my old position of power. You don't understand the humiliation."_

"Pardon me for my total lack of sympathy," Nightcrawler shot back. It would almost have been uncharacteristic and uncalled for, had the alien ranting at him not been responsible for at least three near-death experiences.

"_I'm a pariah, humiliated by my own kind and abandoned. All because you failed to draw the crowds!"_

Iceman chose this moment to speak up.

"Then why did you choose him as your star? Surely, as manager, the decision falls to you."

There was a momentary pause as he considered what had been said. When Mojo started speaking again, his voice was little more than a furious growl.

"_Don't question my expertise! I-"_

"**SHUT UP!"**

All three X-Men, including the normally more eloquent Beast, had finally had enough of the hypocritical ranting that they'd had no choice but to listen to.

"_Very well. I'll stop the sob story and bring us to a different tale. Are you familiar with the work of Suzanne Collins? She's got a new trilogy taking off..."_

At that moment, there was a crash and a monstrous roar as a white-furred beast burst through a, eyes blazing red as it pointed its horns and claws towards the trio. Iceman raised his arms, and almost effortlessly froze its legs to the ground before encasing it in ice.

"_And we have the first casualty of the evening! But beasts so bizarre are never so easily subdued."_

Within seconds, the beast began slowly breaking the ice encasing it as two more of its kind followed it through, snarling at the sight of one of their kind being so cruelly treated.

"I suggest we get the heck outta here."

"Suggestion duly noted and acted upon," Beast muttered, leading his comrades away as quickly as possible, the Wendigo beasts giving chase.

Mojo stared at the monitors, his relaxed and humorous demeanour now giving way to barely suppressed rage.

"Know this, X-Men. It makes no difference if you stand and fight or continue to run. Let me show you why."

With the press of a button, the midday sky above parted to reveal constellations of stars and planets that even Beast struggled to recognise.

"It can't be..."

"What?" Iceman shot a worried glance his way.

"That's right, my good doctor. You're not even in your own universe anymore. Welcome to my galaxy."

* * *

**Pale Rider Institute, Interior Cerebro Chamber**

As Selene continued to draw the life from Charles Xavier's body, she slowly walked towards him, her hand outstretched and a smug smile slowly forming on her face.

With great effort that felt like it almost killed him and a gasp of pain, he managed to roll to one side, falling off the catwalk and landing hard at the bottom of the sphere. He wasted no time feeling around and finding a particular square panel, pushing it to one side and literally falling through as he did, his energy almost exhausted.

The smirk had now left Selene's face completely as a small voice in her head told her to panic, reminding her that the price of this failure would likely be severe indeed. It was for this reason that she promptly climbed down to the bottom of the sphere and reached for her comm. unit.

"The fugitive is in the sub-levels. Candra, leave your troops where they are and get here immediately. Archangel, the same goes for you. Harada, keep guarding the walls," she barked. Her normally calm and balanced tone of voice gave way to a harsher, more irritated one, although she felt she was able to keep her irritation and fear under control.

With those words, she sat down and slid down into the hole, following her captive.

**Pale Rider Institute, Sublevels – Unknown Future**

The vent in the wall offered surprisingly little resistance as a foot managed to dislodge it, causing it to fall to the floor noisily. Xavier pulled himself out into the chamber that had once housed his comatose body, gasping for air as he did so. He lurched forwards, looking at the room as he realised that it had been ruined long ago, the transparent bubble that he had been sheltered by all those years ago now cracked wide open, the nearby medical equipment either scavenged or destroyed.

He almost found himself thinking back and wondering what had become of the X-Men in this timeline, but snapped back to what was happening and pried a door open, slamming it shut seconds before Selene followed him through the tunnel.

"Harada, forget the walls! I almost have him cornered; now help me finish the job!"

Xavier managed to reach the storage room, hurriedly closing the door milliseconds before the lift opened and a confused Candra walked out, followed by Archangel, who seemed to be the only one not in a blind panic. As the two walked down the corridor, Selene rushed out from the coma chamber, short of breath and patience. She took a moment to catch her breath, then finally stopped trying to hide the fact she was angry, roaring at her comrades.

"Where _is_ he?"

Half an hour later, Charles Xavier appeared from behind a tree, climbing up a passageway. It seemed almost bizarre, if not completely paranoid, to have so many potential escape routes, but his priority as the headmaster at the Xavier Institute had ultimately been the safety of the mutants taking refuge here. Ever since he had come into conflict with the man who would go on to be called Erik, and the Mutant Response Division had made a few efforts to kidnap some of his students, he had installed numerous tunnels and failsafe measures on top of the pre-existing defences, largely with the help of Forge and Warren.

He felt a moment of sadness as he realised that Warren had been made a part of the new regime and essentially forced to partake in the cannibalising of the institute, but forced himself to stay calm.

His strength slowly coming back to him, Charles Xavier marched off into the night, towards whatever came next.

* * *

**Yes, I know. There hasn't been a chapter for well over a month. I'm really sorry, but I promise more is on the way!**

**One thing I want to clarify (well, two, I suppose). I'm trying my hardest to see that the setting stays based around 2009-2010, since that's when the second series would have started airing. Obviously, the Avengers have formed in the aligned continuity that Chris Yost set out (WATXM, Avengers: EMH, and supposedly Hulk Versus and Tales of Asgard, although the last two works cause one heck of a continuity problem if mixed with either of the TV shows), but that's why Suzanne Collins is name dropped as having a new trilogy, because at the rough time only two of the Hunger Games books had come out.**

**The other thing I want to clarify is that I'm trying to keep this close to how it would have appeared on TV, at least towards the start, in terms of content that could air. Granted, the second series would have been much darker, and any scene with Omega Red that I've written probably wouldn't make it onto a kid's show – for good reason, mind you- but that means more moderate violence, little to no swearing and only implied references to other stuff; we're looking at you, Sinister, and your creepy obsession with Archangel. As time goes on, we'll get darker. Just wait and see.**

**If you have any (constructive) criticism or questions, again, drop me a review and I'll do my best to answer in the actual chapter itself. More spoiler-ish stuff may be answered by PM instead, if it can be safely answered at all. Until then, I've been talking long enough, so take care.**


	15. Danger Ratings, Part 6

**A/N: Hey everyone. Thanks for checking in once again to another chapter of Season 2, and I hope it's as satisfying for you as the last ones have been.**

**The next chapter focuses more on Wolvie and the X-Mansion, although the Strike team will be back in the fold this time. If you enjoy, read and review! Your support is what keeps me going. It sounds cheesy, I know, but it's true. It's so much easier to write when I get your feedback, be it positive or constructive criticism.**

**Captain Lycan: Thanks! I feel that some of what I've done would not get in a kids show/a show with kids as a large portion of the viewership, with Riptide and Omega Red being the biggest offenders. And yes, Mojo's biggest flaw is that he cannot acknowledge his own mistakes or just quit while he's ahead, the way that some executives will try and milk a franchise to the point it's no longer entertaining as it once was.**

**Mild trigger warning: One scene may possibly remind some viewers of torture or certain kinds of abuse (I promise it is neither of those things, but some things may unintentionally be similar).**

* * *

**Unknown Location, Outer Space, Present Day**

Logic dictated that, aside from the necessities such as life support and the engines, there had to be more than an arena onboard this ship, Hank thought, as he narrowly dodged a swipe from one of the Wendigo creatures.

"Mojo can't have simply kidnapped us and taken us to outer space just to test our mettle in combat. There has to be another reason for us being here?"

"When you say _us being here_, are you referring to us being in outer space or is this a philosophical question?" Iceman quipped.

"Shut up, Bobby. That isn't helping."

"Whenever Mojo does a prank like this, he often engineers it so that he benefits himself and hurts as many parties as possible. Whatever he's planning, it can't be good," Nightcrawler muttered. "We'd better find out whatever it is he's doing before we're out of time."

It was at that point that three Marauders emerged from the cover of the woodlands, firing at the trio as they began to rush towards the centre. Immediately, the beasts ended up diverting their attention to the newcomers, roaring with rampant irritation after having pursued their prey for so long with little success.

_BAMF. _In the commotion, Nightcrawler managed to teleport in, grabbing one of the wristbands from the troopers just before he teleported away. Looking at it, he promptly slipped it over his wrist before grabbing both Iceman and Beast. A second later, the mutants had gone as the Marauders struggled to deal with the two monstrosities now in their ranks.

"Okay," Iceman said as the three of them re-emerged in a clearing. "We've stolen some property from security and left them to act as pest control. So now what do we do?"

Beast took the wristband off of Nightcrawler, instinctively pressing a button which revealed a map of the ship.

"I can't understand what half of this says," Beast noted. "It's in a language that doesn't even exist on Earth. However, given the basic layout of the average spaceship, I would guess that its engines would have to be towards here."

At these words, he pointed towards the rear of the spaceship.

"Whatever Mojo has planned, it's likely to be this way. Let's go!"

With these words, the three of them made an effort to run towards what they hoped was the engine room.

* * *

**The Brig, Unknown Location, Present Day**

From the brig of the ship, Mojo watched in anticipation as he saw his captives begin to edge their way towards the engine room.

"Sir, shall I deploy more guards to prevent them from reaching their destination? You did say that you wanted the X-Men to be utterly crushed once and for all?"

"And they shall be, my dear Spiral. However, it is absolutely necessary that the X-Men reach their intended destination, for I have integrated it into my plan. You see, Spiral, one thing I have noticed with television is that the villain must monologue to a participant, willing or unwilling. Since telling the X-Men is not what I would call desirable, I shall tell you instead. Are you ready to listen?"

At this, Mojo melodramatically stared into his lieutenant's eyes, the way that a dog would often attempt to emotionally appeal to its human master. As the "dog" in question was a morbidly overweight alien being with grotesque facial features, the resulting sight was not what many would call appealing.

"As ready as I'll ever be," the reluctant Spiral replied.

"Excellent! Once the X-Men reach their destination, it is my plan for the ship to rotate towards this planet _here_," he declared, hand gesturing towards a certain planet. "At this point, the engines shall be set to maximum and then have their speed fixed, with the hull being broken _here_, _here_ aaaannddd... _here_. This shall ensure that the X-Men are left to the harsh vacuum of space and unable to prevent the following events. On my word, my operatives on the ground will hack and hijack all automated defences for the capital city after all defensive fleets have been severely damaged. At this point, you and I shall evacuate the ship, after which it shall collide with the capital building, wiping out the Council of the Spineless Ones and my many irritating viewers all in one stroke."

Spiral found her jaw dropping at this revelation.

"I can see your awestruck face. Pretty clever, eh?"

"...Sir. I have stood by you during the attempted kidnappings of heads of state, the abduction of mutants for slave labour and even abandoned a mutant child to sink in a damaged vessel. This, however, is confusing to me."

"Confusing? Surely you're not beginning to grow a conscience now," Mojo mused, eyebrows raised.

"Why would anyone simply hijack a council ship for such petty purposes? Why not simply leave an explosive at the Council's doorstep and be done with it?"

"Because after the Council is eliminated, several of my allies on the ground will leak footage onto the network. In the mad rush for answers, edited footage will show the X-Men entering the engine room and laying down some explosives. The public shall string them up as the villains in the piece for working alongside me, and within days Earth and the Council's remnants shall be at war. The X-Men will soon fall as casualties, and I'll have the last laugh once my world is ripe to conquer in the chaos."

The plan was certainly not something that Mojo had cooked up just that moment, although she was certain there would be holes in it.

"So, Spiral, are you with me, or has my devious and oh-so-horrific plan caused you to hypocritically grow a conscience? If it has, you're welcome to try and warn the Council, for all the good it will do. Just question whether or not your help will be taken into account, given your track records in my prior atrocities," he mocked, now fully aware that it was his turn to be scornful.

Spiral sat there for a moment, and sighed. She wanted to strangle her boss at that moment, she really did, but she knew that deep down, in spite of his warped behaviour, he was right. The Council would likely give her a quicker death and precious little else as her reward for co-operation.

"Let's get this over with."

"I knew you'd see things my way. Now come on, we have a ship to- what are _they_ doing here?"

Back in the building where the X-Men had unwillingly arrived, another portal had opened, although this time it was obvious that the Marauders had not been the ones to use it, as the two unconscious bodies were dragged through, almost as if they were being levitated.

First to emerge from the portal was a mutant clad in a green top and leggings, with her equally green hair descending to her shoulders and arms raised, as she casually threw the Marauders to one side with her magnetism. Next to follow was Scarlet Witch, followed in turn by a determined Storm, who marched to the front of the trio as they exited for the woods. Each had a look of anger etched upon their faces.

Mojo angrily reached for the microphone, bellowing through the speakers.

"_What are you doing here? Why are you ruining my plans?"_

It was Storm that chose to reply first.

"I'm here to save my team. And there's nothing you can do to stop me."

* * *

**Xavier Mansion, Present Day, Late Afternoon**

For several moments, the X-Men sat in almost total silence, Wolverine still leaning on the casing that housed their comatose leader, for once lost for words.

Eventually, Rogue plucked up the courage to speak.

"What... what happened?"

"...I don't know," came the feeble reply, as Wolverine stared into space for a few moments.

"But I do know this," he declared, turning to face the X-Men. "Until we hear back from him, we have two new missions."

"Missions?" Kitty raised her eyebrows at this. "Logan, we don't know anything about what happened to the Professor, or where Ororo and the others are. How are we supposed to start?"

"Da," Piotr nodded. "He didn't even tell us what to do."

"We START by trackin' down Sinister," Wolverine growled. "Jean, I know that Beast and I agreed to let you rest, but desperate times call for desperate measures-"

"Will you _stop_ using that to justify what we're doing? It makes me uncomfortable!" Forge butted in.

Logan merely glared at him. He understood that people had their reservations about the darker side of the X-Men's activities, both friend and foe, but right now he simply did not care. The closest thing that many members of the team had to a father figure could well be dead, and if they had to the team would go to almost any length necessary to bring him back. This time, he wasn't going to let people hold him back.

"Jean, go and power up Cerebro and try scannin' for his Marauders. He's most likely responsible for both these emergencies. If we find him, we might find the others."

Jean nodded, her hand leaving Scott's as she headed for the door. For a moment, her boyfriend looked hesitant to either part with her or let Logan force her into using Cerebro, but on this occasion he did not argue, head stiffly going up and down. There were no words, but it was clear that Cyclops was not happy about the situation, and the nod seemed to be his way of saying "just this once".

"Forge, I need files from the MRD on Sinister's last known location. Hack into their databases, and see if they have any leads."

The sound of the mechanical leg hitting the floor echoed as he stormed out.

"We can rely on him to do it this time, right?"

"He cares about Charles Xavier too much. He won't let us down, but I think he'll wanna punch me in the face for this. Everyone else, we're potentially mobilisin' for an operation and maybe headin' for one of these last known whereabouts. Wheels up in thirty."

With these words, the team filed out into the hallway, concerned and panicked looks etched upon their faces, until Wolverine and one other were left next to Xavier's prone form. For a moment, neither of them said a word or even looked at one another, until eventually the silence was broken and Cyclops found a face staring at him in the reflection of the container.

"You ain't happy with me, are ya, Summers?"

There was no answer.

"If it's any consolation, I'm not pleased with myself either for askin' Jean to boot up Cerebro."

Still nothing was said, although this time Wolverine caught a flicker of emotion as the other man registered what was being said. He was obviously angry, but was there something else deep inside that he didn't know about? Or was he getting too analytical and getting his hopes up, when he'd most likely be hit by an energy blast to the chest again?

"Y'know... Chuck's pretty capable. I'm sure that whatever it is, he can handle it," Logan muttered, risking one last attempt at a conversation.

This time, he seemed to have said something correctly, as Scott raised his head. He still didn't angle his eyes towards Wolverine, but he finally acknowledged that someone else was there.

"He was right, Logan," he mumbled.

"About what?"

"Putting you in charge during that time. He needed someone to make... _unemotional_ decisions. I wasn't that guy, and I don't think I am now. I woulda made things worse."

The Canadian simply stood there and pondered what he'd just heard, dumbstruck yet again. That made two times in such a short period, he mentally noted. It took him a few seconds to think about what he said next, trying for once not to press one of his friend's buttons.

"Maybe no worse than I did, Summers."

At this point, Scott rose and turned to face him. Wolverine noted that he somehow seemed different. One moment, he had looked like he wanted to strangle someone. Now, he seemed to be the dutiful soldier that he had been destined to become. _Maybe even a leader when I hang up the mantle,_ he thought to himself, although he made especially certain not to say any of this aloud. It wouldn't do for him to go all sentimental on Cyke, because it just wouldn't be... him.

"This whole thing's bigger than you and me, Logan. We can't afford to be at each others' throats, there's just too much at stake." For the umpteenth time in the conversation, there was a pause. "So whatever you need from me, you've got it."

The next moment, he offered his hand, and Logan shook it, the two turning to leave.

* * *

**Cerebro Chamber, Present Day, Evening**

Jean sat in the Cerebro chamber, struggling to operate the machinery as she found herself trying to remember how on earth she had done this beforehand. While she was by no means dealing with new technology, she was essentially trying to regain her bearings, the way that a person with a broken limb would struggle to do the tasks they used to after weeks or months of not using said limb. Months had passed since she had sat here, and even then the Professor had been in charge of Cerebro for the most part, with her instead on the battlefield with the rest of the team.

Slowly, cautiously, she put her hands on the flat screens and closed her eyes, doing her best to concentrate and clear her head of any distractions. It would do no good to have irrelevant thoughts stuck in her mind if she was to track down Sinister, although staying focused with a machine like Cerebro was easier said than done.

Through the sphere, barely visible images wisped through, their features undefined and covered in shadows. She persisted, doing her best to ignore them. _It's somebody else. I can't afford to get distracted_, she told herself. Sighing, she continued, focusing harder.

With no warning, a rapid succession of images flashed by in her head of Scott, although she swore that these weren't her memories. What was going on here?

"_**HELP**__."_

The voice was not one she could easily identify, although she seemed to remember enough to panic and associate it with someone or something negative. Startled, she pulled her hands back from the flat screens, gasping in mild horror.

It took a moment for her to regain her composure, with a deep, cleansing breath. Doing her best to control herself and breathe slowly, she put her hands back down on the flat screens, this time feeling considerably calmer. She closed her eyes once again, and the wisps started to fade through the sphere again, this time with more human shapes and easier-to-read faces, although some of the detail was still missing.

At that point, Jean noticed that a solitary shadow now stood in the middle, growing larger as the others dispersed and shrank in size; it was almost as if the lone being was absorbing their life force and leaving them withered husks. Gradually, she could see the outline of a cape on a lean but strong body, and the shadow kept growing.

Something was wrong, this much she knew. Her body began shuddering as her eyes opened and her brow creased in terror. She wanted for someone to force her to leave the room, or for the machine to fail, but she knew that neither of those things were about to happen.

Like a vampire forming from inky mist, she was horrified to find the eerie face of Mister Sinister looking upon hers, an uncanny smirk upon his face that sent shivers down her spine.

"Hello, Jean. Searching for me?"

Jean found herself trying to wildly tear off the headgear, but her body seemed to disconnect from her mind at that point, and she felt herself almost going into a seizure as her limbs and muscles stiffened. Her breathing was strained and harsh.

_Please... let me go._ She wanted desperately to cry out, to scream at him to stop, but he was fully in control and she had no way of changing the situation.

The vaporous image that stood in front of her now slowly advanced, looming in front of her like a giant as it finally stopped growing, having finally reached the ceiling in height. His deep voice echoed through her mind, haunting her. Memories of laboratories and a winged predator flashed back through her mind, the various images of Scott now mixing with them to create a horrifying mix.

" Now... what would prompt you to..."

Sinister paused for a moment, clearly relishing the realisation that had struck him. An amused laugh escaped his lips.

"Ahh. There is something else, or someone, that you also seek. Yet you know something, don't you?"

She could only continue shuddering, unable to move.

"I can tell you now that, for once, I had nothing to do with the disappearance of Kurt Wagner, Robert Drake or Henry McCoy. Their whereabouts are completely unknown to me or my minions, although I have hazarded some guesses as to who is responsible. Nevertheless, this is not important to me." At this point, the smile disappeared, Sinister's expression now back to its usual emotionless state.

"I see you've learned about Apocalypse. And look at how you've come by this information. Well," he noted, a smile forming on his face.

"We can't have that."

With no warning, his projection lunged towards her, dispersing like mist around her body. As he did so, the power to the chamber suddenly seemed to have been drained away, darkness falling over the console.

For a moment, Jean remained stiffened, and then slumped into unconsciousness, her heart racing. The last thing she heard was faint, panicked shouting as she heard Logan, Piotr and Scott heading her way.

* * *

**War Room, Present Day, Evening**

Wolverine found himself sat by a console, tapping on screens as he considered their next plan of action. Hacking the MRD had not proved as productive as he had hoped. As it was, most of their leads and resources seemed to have been poured into tracking down Magneto, and as tempting as that sounded it wasn't something that they needed to do. For once, he was almost happy to let the Mardees do their little manhunt. The X-Men had their own affairs.

His thoughts briefly drifted to some heavily-encrypted files that Forge apparently hadn't been able to crack, before the screens in front of him flickered and went out. Shortly afterwards, the lights did the same in the room, doing so throughout the mansion and grounds. He heard Bobby groan in annoyance not far away and Ilyana shout something in Russian, but he had no time to deal with either of those disturbances. Rogue would likely be on hand to deal with both of them in any case. His priority was getting power back up and working out what was going on.

Red emergency lighting cloaked the war room as backup power finally kicked in, and as it did so he found himself staring at an obviously unnerved Cyclops, although for once he was doing his best to keep it in check.

"What the heck is going on?"

"My guess is it would be a power surge near Cerebro. Jean's down there!"

* * *

**Sublevel Corridor, Present Day, Evening**

Cyclops found himself at the door first, his unusually calm and composed state giving way as he desperately tried to break through several inches of reinforced steel and titanium.

"Jean?" His voice was still level, although it very briefly wavered. Hearing no answer, his hand went to his visor, cranking it and aiming it at the door, releasing a prolonged blast in an effort to break in. The door dented inwards, but refused to budge. He growled, persisting with his efforts.

By the time that Piotr and Logan had joined him, they found the door being ripped open as he removed his visor in desperation, firing full blast and tearing the metal to pieces. Quickly, he shut his eyes and ran into the chamber, putting his visor back on and towards Jean, who was by now slumped over the console. As he got to her, he gently leant her back, not wanting to potentially do further harm.

"Jean... are you okay?"

A stirring groan was his reply. It wasn't much, but it was enough to know that she was still alive.

"What happened in here?" Wolverine barked. It was clear that his anger masked a mixture of concern for his comrades and fear for what would happen next.

"Sinister... he reached through Cerebro somehow. He... he knows about Charles."

For a second, there was a stunned silence. Immediately afterwards, a loud crash broke said silence as something burst through the roof of the Mansion's upper floors.

**Xavier Mansion, Evening**

Kitty Pride was the first person to see the face carved from stone, uncanny white eyes and metallic wings break through the roof and top two floors, as the being tilted its wings to flip itself in the air and landed on its feet to stop on the floor below her. She quickly found herself struggling to keep her composure as Archangel looked at its surroundings emotionlessly, the way that a trained predator looked for prey.

"Warren..."

Taking a deep breath to try and reassure herself, she phased down to land right behind him and made an effort to leap onto his back. It was to no avail, as Archangel flicked a wing and sent her flying towards the wall, which she phased through.

The immediate challenge repelled, Archangel turned its attention now towards the priority target, stabbing both wings into the floor and rending metal somewhere beneath the flooring. Now the pair of wings spread, opening a hole with surprisingly little resistance from the reinforced sublevel, theoretically designed to hold enemies back. As the last part of the hole was opened, loud footsteps came down the stairs across the room, at which point Archangel took flight and fired a barrage of feathers towards the noise. Rogue managed to duck and avoid the projectiles, just as her attacker looped around and dived through the hole.

_Rogue is not the priority target. The priority target is down in the sublevels_, droned Archangel mentally, the same monotonous pattern that had been programmed into its mind now taking over as it flew towards its target, briefly stopping to pierce another hole in the ceiling. There was the loud sound of metal spearing on metal as Archangel landed, its target on the other side of the room it had now landed in.

The interior Cerebro chamber was surprisingly empty, Archangel noted. Normally, one would have expected Beast or Forge to be down here, although he knew that the former was presently missing and the latter had likely been occupied with something time-consuming. It didn't matter, it realised, as it drew up towards the comatose body of Charles Xavier, which was resting peacefully in the bubble that he now remembered.

As the distance to the container got smaller, a pair of metallic wings rose up, preparing to strike down-

_SHRAKK._

The muffled sound of Cyclops' energy beams could be heard as the mutant tried breaking through the doors, which eventually bowed to the force. Emotionless as always, Archangel straightened, lifted its wing, aimed it at the capsule, and brought it down hard.

* * *

**Well, there goes another chapter. I'd been hoping to release this by the end of March, but I kept questioning where I should stop and kept adding more stuff in as a result, so that's just how it went.**

**Thanks for staying with me once again, everyone. Once again, leave a review, favourite the story and share it with your friends. As usual, the place to be is the "1 Million to Save Wolverine and the X-Men" page on Facebook. Until next time, hopefully not too long, take care!**


	16. Danger Ratings, Part 7

**A/N: Hi again guys. Hope you're doing well. This chapter mostly focuses on the X-Men in the present day, although there'll be a bit more focus on Storm this time. To throw more spanners in the works, more problems shall arise for the X-Men towards the end of the chapter as humanity chooses this moment to lash out.**

**If you want me to keep going, please favourite, review and share this. It really means a lot to have your support. Without further ado, let's go!**

* * *

**Xavier Mansion, Present Day**

As the wings descended, they tore through the storage pod like cardboard, the prone form of Charles Xavier unresponsive to the imminent danger as a pair of metallic arms reached through the hole and dragged him out roughly. With barely a glance towards Cyclops, he promptly ascended and burst through the ceiling, using his wings to slice through it as he promptly made his escape and narrowly avoided the optic blast that headed his way.

If any of the X-Men had been outside, they would have seen the winged form of Archangel burst out through the roof again, ascending to a greater height as he kept a tight hold on Charles Xavier, reducing his speed and flying at a lower height so as not to suffocate his captive or damage his exposed eyes.

By the time Ilyana and Cyclops emerged outside the mansion, their attacker and his prey were nowhere to be seen.

* * *

**Cerebro Chamber Exterior, Present Day**

For several minutes, nobody dared say a word as they struggled to take in the situation, all staring at the cracked life support system which had previously housed the man who had, for many of them, served as a father figure. It wasn't like this sort of thing hadn't happened before. All sorts had attacked the mansion before, from the Brotherhood of Mutants to the Mutant Response Division. Members of staff had disappeared before, on occasion being abducted alongside their students.

However, after spending so long searching for Charles Xavier not so long ago, and then finding out that Jean Grey was still alive, it was a serious emotional blow to suddenly have the former taken away again while the latter seemed to have been traumatised. All this, on top of Storm's team going missing with the bad news regarding Sinister and his master, only served to destabilise them.

Eventually, Logan was the one who tried to break the silence.

"Alright. Here's what we're gonna do. Summers, Forge, get to the jet. See if you can go after him-"

"Are you crazy?" Forge spluttered. "The repairs are basic at best! Without further work we don't have weapons or even cloaking!"

"You think I don't know that, Forge?" Logan roared, claws slowly emerging from between his knuckles. "I get you havin' yer moral reservations with me as team leader, but if you so much as breathe the wrong way right now, I'm gonna lose it. So do me a favour, shut up, and go and check the freakin' jet!"

The sound of a prosthetic leg angrily hitting the ground as its user marched towards the hangar could be heard for the next few seconds, with Cyclops giving a nod in their direction as he followed.

"What about the rest of us? What are we supposed to do?" Rogue piped up.

"Angel took him alive, so Sinister must _want_ him alive," Jean muttered. She was pleased that he hadn't been hurt, but she pitied the professor all the same. In most cases, she felt that a mutant was better off dead than in Sinister's clutches. "That means there's a chance we can still get him back, like we did before."

The group solemnly nodded.

"But until we can get him back, Charles Xavier has no way to reach us. His body was the conduit."

At this, Wolverine seemed to slump into the nearest seat, despair racking his brain.

"Yeah. Means only one thing... we're on our own."

* * *

**Outer Space, Unknown Location, Present Day**

The chamber shook violently as multiple Marauders began to sweep into the corridor, weapons blazing in all directions as they attempted to deal with the Wendigo that had gotten loose in the sublevels. As they did this, Mojo found himself grinding his hideous teeth.

"As soon as the Scarlet Witch turns up with Storm, everything goes in a hand basket to h-"

"Sir, Storm and her team are headed towards the engine room, but we have a demolitions team in place. Should we prepare to detonate the explosives?"

"If the team is ready, then by all means proceed," he growled. "Send your best men to guard the engine room. They won't stop the X-Men, but they'll easily buy our operation the time we need. Join the team yourself, if you absolutely must."

"Yes, sir," Spiral muttered, trying her best to conceal her hatred for him and failing. "Right away."

With those words, the lieutenant left her post and rushed towards the engine room.

**Outside the Engine Room**

Three guards rounded the corner, each carrying what resembled a futuristic minigun. As they turned towards the X-Men, they opened fire, forcing Iceman to create an ice wall as temporary cover. Even that wasn't enough, as chunks were promptly blown from its surface and holes were punched through by the projectiles.

It was at that moment that Nightcrawler chose to strike, teleporting next to one of the guards and grabbing the ammunition pack on his back. Immediately afterwards, he teleported away, causing the minigun's rate of fire to slow down as it quickly ran out of bullets.

"I'll be taking these," he quipped, as he did the same to the second guard. The third wisely chose to keep moving, meaning that Nightcrawler missed his weapon and had to teleport out of the line of fire.

As he rotated to get a clearer shot, Scarlet Witch fired an energy blast into his chest, knocking him back and giving her time to fire at his head, leaving him unconscious. In sync with her attacks, Beast picked up the second guard, slamming the stragglers together with uncharacteristically vicious force and knocking them both out.

"Keep going! According to my estimations, the engine room should be further along this way!"

At this moment, the team inside the engine room had finished their work on the engines, moving to plant bombs on the second, while the X-Men met little resistance from the troops posted outside, dealing with several automated turrets.

"_Demolitions crew. The X-Men are reaching the final wave of defense. We have confirmation that the ship is in position and that the engines are set at maximum speed. If you've done your job, get out of dodge immediately. We need to incriminate the X-Men and make this look real."_

The sound of several lasers firing on full-auto was enough to convince the demolitions team that it was time to leave, and they did so, teleporting out of the room with their gear just before the X-Men entered.

"Fantastic," Iceman sarcastically muttered. "We get kidnapped and he plans to sink us- or crash us- with the ship we're tied up on. The guy simply couldn't pay to have us shot peacefully."

There was a moment's pause.

"Okay, does anybody know how to defuse a bomb? Because I have no idea."

"Nein," Nightcrawler muttered. "But they must have some sort of off switch. You wouldn't have a good demolitions team if you couldn't turn a bomb on and off."

"I can try and find it, but I won't have long," Beast declared. "You'll need to find Mojo and head him off. This is something he can't be allowed to get away with."

No more words needed to be said, as Storm and Scarlet Witch chose that moment to run onwards, hoping that soon enough they would find him. It was up to the rest of the X-Men to keep any threats off Beast's back while they went to head to stop Mojo.

"You really think we'll be enough? Mojo's crazy, sure, but I doubt he's a pushover."

"Maybe not," Storm admitted. "However, under the influence of the Shadow King I once had the potential to raze the whole of Africa to the ground."

Wanda just stared at her, completely lost for words.

"It's a long story."

* * *

**Sinister's Lair, Undisclosed Location, Present Day**

The interior of the main laboratory was almost impossible to navigate around, Arclight grumbled to himself, nothing that the lack of lighting made it incredibly difficult to see. He was unsure as to why his boss insisted on keeping the lights off or dimmed; the compound was largely underground and therefore not easily viewable from the naked eye. A little lighting was hardly going to shine out over a settlement when there was nothing to find. In any case, being unable to see posed more risks to the equipment here than any potential intruder did at the present time.

Suddenly, he heard Harpoon stand at attention and flick a switch. On cue, he heard the sound of whirring as machinery came to life and a glow began in the middle of the room, finally bringing some detail to their surroundings. As it did so, an illuminated cryo-tube rose up, briefly stunning the assembled crowd before their eyes adjusted to the light.

Floating in the cryo-tube was Charles Xavier, suspended in liquid and lit up from the tube's base. The effect was something that Arclight could only describe as creepy, not being entirely sure as to how he should react.

"Charles... Xavier...," came the haunting voice of his master, as he slowly walked into the room, passing Vertigo as he approached the tube. His unnatural, piercing eyes stared inside the container, fixed on his captive's peaceful face.

"I trust that you faced no major difficulties from the X-Men when you made your attack, Archangel?"

The winged being shook his head.

"Then congratulations are in order, my perfect lieutenant. Even scattered, the X-Men are not to be taken lightly. I shall be sure to... _reward_ you in due time. Right now, I must attend to business."

Now Sinister turned to face the tube, once again focusing on their prisoner.

"I do apologise for having to bring you here like this, but doing so was necessary for me to make further scientific discovery. You can take comfort from the fact that everything I learn from you shall be put to use."

It was at that moment Blockbuster stupidly chose to whisper a little too loudly.

"Does the boss know that he probably can't hear us?"

"The contribution is appreciated, my dear Blockbuster," Sinister replied, calm voice masking obvious anger at being interrupted.

Before their master could be disturbed a second time, Arclight made a point of elbowing his comrade forcefully, although he found himself wincing as he painfully made contact. Nevertheless, there was no second interruption, in spite of the Marauders wondering as to whether or not their prisoner was actually taking in what was said.

"So, Charles, you're seeing the future, are you? Tell me, is it anything like you imagined it would be all those years ago? Do humans and mutants live side-by-side as you once hoped? Or is it the way _I_ imagined it to be?"

* * *

**Xavier Mansion, Present Day**

"Forge, do you think that the jet is workin'?"

"Just about, Wolverine," was the scornful reply. "As it stands, I've had to disable everything nonessential just to make sure it'll get in the air. That means pretty much no heavy weaponry, limited stealth equipment and a radar system that's on the blink. You still sure you want to go ahead with this?"

In truth, Wolverine wasn't sure at all that he was making the right decision. He'd flown the jet before, and the radar system malfunction alone made him feel uneasy about sending a team member to fly after Warren.

All that he knew was that the father figure to most of the X-Men was missing, and that there wasn't a single member of them that wouldn't tear the world apart to try and find him again. In his eyes, this was the only way to try and keep the team together.

Boy, how he hated being the leader sometimes.

"Yeah, I'm sure. It's our only chance. You set to go?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, Wolverine. We're ready to go whenever you want."

"Good," he muttered. "Get the preparations done and you're good to go whene-"

At this point, Logan's cell phone began vibrating. He quickly fished it out of his pocket, annoyed by the interruption.

"Yeah, what is it? I'm kinda busy."

The familiar voice of Christopher Nord came down the line.

"_Logan, you'd better look at the news. I'm really sorry to interrupt, but it's urgent."_

"What is it? Weapon X?" Logan was now alarmed. He knew that Christopher Nord had been eager to help and repay the debt he owed by helping to save Piotr and Ilyana, but at the same time he was aware that both father and daughter had no desire to stay in the world of heroics any longer than necessary. For him to suddenly call out of the blue, it must have been urgent.

"_There's been some activity from them, but that isn't why I called. It's worse than Weapon X, much worse."_

Logan walked over to the television, flicking through channels until finally he found himself watching a show called "The Garside Hour". He raised his eyebrows, now unimpressed.

"This is more than crummy, late-night journalism, right? We get enough of that on TV already."

"_Just keep watching,"_ Nord urged. _"The situation is serious, even if the show is ridiculously tacky and self-centred."_

A flashy set of credits rolled in, naming producers and a few of the crew, eventually cutting to a fat host in a suit that was standing on a glossy set with bright lights that almost made it impossible to see his face, making his already crimson cheeks turn bright red.

"_Hello, and welcome back to this week's Mutant Brief, with me, Stephen Garside. You join me as the world authorities finally decide to take a step forward with regards to the infamous incident that took place a few months ago in New York."_

Logan had initially been amused by the tackiness of the show. So-called "journalists" like this were a dime a dozen, particularly as he'd chosen the words "infamous incident" for a city where costumed criminals and vigilantes were everywhere- heck, it had only been a few weeks since the mass breakout from The Raft, as well as the other prisons across the country. However, given how the show was focusing on mutants...

"I think I know where this is going..."

A photo of Sentinels ravaging New York appeared next to Garside, who was by now starting to rant angrily.

"_Yes, it was several months ago today. The Sentinels, created to _protect_ us, were instead turned _against_ us by the mutant warmonger known as Magneto."_

The photo now filled the frame, and a zooming graphic enlarged an image of Magneto riding on the shoulders of a Sentinel. The presenter continued talking over the footage.

"_This is the same Magneto that had abducted Senator Robert Kelly, and held him hostage on his island of Genosha."_

Now, some news footage from CNN played of Senator Kelly emerging from an MRD heli-jet with a blanket over his shoulders, waving at an offscreen crowd. Logan had remembered that all too well. He'd sympathised with Magneto at the time- if he'd had kids, he'd have gone paternal the same way that Erik had- but he remembered that from that point, the MRD had upped its efforts. In trying to do what he'd seen as right, Magneto had made things worse and forced humanity to do wrong.

"_But this act ignited such a firestorm that, upon Kelly's release, Friends of the Earth lobbied the White House to see Kelly promoted to Secretary of Mutant Affairs and trade his seat in the Senate for a government position. Yet, bizarrely enough, the Senator _refuses the post_ without giving a reason why! Can you believe this... traitor?"_

That also took Logan by surprise.

"Kelly actually ...turned down the post?"

"_It makes no difference,"_ Garside continued to his audience. "_Various officials from around the world have joined together in the most unlikely situation, all brought together by one common purpose- to see mutantkind pay for its actions and crimes against humanity. And the organisation that is finally answering injustice with justice?" _

There was a pause, as graphics of MRD troopers suddenly popped up onto the screen, arresting mutants with impunity as vehicles rolled through busy streets. Clearly, the writers wanted to ham up this delivery for all they felt it was worth.

"_Led by the valiant General William Kincaid in the fight for human survival, ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to introduce the _Human High Council_!"_

* * *

**After much internal debate, I decided that the chapter should end there.**

**I'm hoping that, before I head off to California in a week without my trusty laptop, I can finish this arc. Villains like Omega Red, Magneto and Sinister and his gang are a pleasure to write, but Mojo is a villain that, from my perspective, is not so entertaining at least in my hands. I feel that his presence has probably impacted negatively on the work (and bored many fans/readers to death) and there were many points where I wanted to rewrite the arc or suddenly kill him off with no warning. However, for the sake of not wimping out I decided that I would persevere, for better or worse. For that reason I'm aiming to finish the arc and launch the next one quickly.**

**The next chapter will focus on Storm and Scarlet Witch versus Mojo, and briefly on Charles Xavier once again. Wolverine and co are mostly done for this arc, at least in terms of the action. Until next time, thanks for your support and see you then!**


	17. Danger Ratings, Part 8

**A/N: Hey everyone. We finally move into the last chapter of the story arc. I've decided that next time I want a character forced out the arc and they're not that important, I'm going to make it quicker, more relevant and hopefully more interesting. With that note, let's finish this and move on to better stories.**

**Vendettakiller19: That is 100% intentional. However, I do not plan to have the Council the exact same way it was in the comics, both in the future and in the present. There will be certain twists, some of which you'll find out this chapter, while others have already been done- Kincaid was never in the comics to my knowledge, only in the X-Men Legends game.**

* * *

**Xavier Institute, Present Day (cont)**

With this declaration, the show cut live to a news conference outside of an enormous, heavily fortified building. At the head of the table was a stern-faced man in his early fifties, with brown, close-cropped hair that was going grey around the edges and a moustache. He was dressed in a military uniform with three stars on his shoulder, raising his eyes to the camera as he prepared to address the press and public for whatever was coming next.

"What the heck is the Human High Council?

As if the show tried directly answering his question, Kincaid began to speak.

"_When I speak to you tonight, it is to inform you of the ever-present danger that one mutant poses to our nation, to our children, and to the ideals with which our forefathers founded our society, not to mention the rest of the world. To this end, the Human High Council, as of today, has been founded as an international alliance to oppose mutant supremacy. Supremacy is, in this case, an ideal born from distrust and a desire for change. Whereas before mutants fought for the same rights we possess, Magneto has undermined the relatively stable relationship between humans and mutants through his radicalisation of the population."_

_Relatively stable relationship between humans and mutants?_ Wolverine mentally scoffed. _Even after our work, I don't think that's how it's ever been. Way to try and avoid sounding like a bigot on live television._

"_An international alliance, the Council has officially granted General Kincaid the position of Acting Director, empowering him to confront the mutant crisis head on,"_ spoke another figure, a man with greying hair, enormous spectacles and a cold expression fixed upon his face. Wolverine recognised the man from somewhere, but couldn't pin a name to the face. Among all the anti-mutant businessmen, it was difficult to remember all the details. Was it Hodgson... Hudson? He had no idea.

The man nodded to General Kincaid, who started speaking again.

"_I, as Acting Director, promise you three things. The first is that our agenda will be straightforward- to better equip the Mutant Response Division in the United States, and extend its protection around the world by supporting similar groups and helping to build up their strengths, so that no country is left unguarded against such a menace. My second promise is to track down Magneto and bring that war criminal to justice."_

At this point, several observers in the crowd cheered, with even a few of the journalists muttering excitedly, despite the fact that they were nominally supposed to remain neutral.

"_My third and final promise is to prevent such a catastrophe like this happening ever again. To this end, the Human High Council will arrest any and all mutants seen using their powers. Today begins Operation: Zero Tolerance!"_

With this, the show cut back to news footage of civilian vehicles driving through populated streets, often with signs such as "Mutant? Return to Genosha or face arrest" written on their sides. They followed a series of police cars presumably meant to intervene and stop either side getting out of hand, and in turn were followed by armoured MRD vehicles, each repeating the same message and dictated by the man in the suit- the voices sounded too familiar for it to be coincidence.

"_You mutants may consider us lowly humans, but I promise you this. We are _not_ powerless. We will _not_ be bullied. And mark my words. The Mutant High Council, led by myself, Cameron Hodge, will see this through to the bitter end!"_

* * *

**Outer Space, Unknown Location, Present Day**

Mojo found himself staring in anger as he realised that he had not thought his plan through as well as he had hoped. His initial hopes had been that by isolating the X-Men and splitting up, he'd have had some hope of downing the ship, killing some of his enemies and sparking a war all in one stroke. The interference of the Scarlet Witch and Storm, however, was not something he had anticipated, and now he realised that his remaining troops were busy fighting for their lives against the Wendigo beasts now loose in the sublevels, being soundly defeated by Storm and Scarlet Witch, or beaming off the ship in groups, to wherever they felt they could take refuge.

As tempted as he was to rant, curse, and blame somebody else, he knew deep down that ultimately the failure to eliminate Storm and the Scarlet Witch was his mistake and his alone. It was, quite possibly, the first time that he had acknowledged his error; such an epiphany was not something that he took well, and his right eye began twitching erratically as his mind struggled to comprehend just what had passed through it.

Several seconds passed, at which point he raised his head. For once, the monstrous grin had gone, replaced by an uncharacteristic sulk as his hoverchair gravitated forward. Spiral glanced with concern at his face.

"Sir... what's happening?"

"We've failed, Spiral. _That_ is what's happening," he replied, voice completely humourless and serious. "I have decided that the best way to rectify the situation would be to confront Storm and Scarlet Witch head on, and utterly destroy them, while you activate the ship's weaponry and begin bombarding the planet's surface. If I cannot perfect my vengeance, I will see it at least started."

She opened her mouth, but the words died in her throat as he cut in.

"And before you start protesting that this wasn't part of the plan," he continued, surprising her slightly, "my original plan did not involve any of this happening. Now, are you going to follow my orders, or might I be better off simply turning you over to my enemies and making my escape?"

No reply.

"...or do your loyalties no longer lie with me?"

"They haven't for a short while... sir."

It wasn't easy for her to confess it, in spite of the fact that she utterly despised her former master.

"What was it that caused you to defect, Spiral? Was it what you viewed as poor treatment? Did I cross the proverbial line one time too many?" In spite of everything, Mojo's voice was still level, although his eye was twitching further and if he were human, his face would have turned purple with anger.

It took all of her effort, but she stared him in the eyes.

"No, sir. It's true I suffered both of those, but ultimately I'm tired of running from my crimes. It doesn't matter how far we seem to travel or which barren rock we hide on- the same faces get caught in my mind when I sleep. Everywhere I go, I have to look over my shoulder because I'm afraid that I'll be recognised and dropped into a vat of acid by the Council," she declared, trying hard not to think of the preferred execution method used on Mojo's world.

"This is surprisingly unlike you, Spiral. You are aware that if you needed a memory wipe, I would happily have provided you with one?" The question was phrased in a manner that was almost gentle, in spite of the fact that he was completely missing the point. "You have been my most trusted lieutenant for as long as I have remembered. Admittedly, I am fond of wiping my memory from time to time, but the fact still stands. I have used my minions as cannon fodder while I prepared the Ultimate Hunter back on Earth, and abandoned past lieutenants for failures that were far less significant than yours. Yet now you have turned your back on me."

"If it means giving us both a chance to stop this madness... then yes, I have," she said. Her face remained as cold as ever, with no sign of tears, yet her voice sounded sad. Before this, Mojo had been one of the closest things she had to a friend, and now she found herself hating what he had become... what she had become in following him.

"It's a pity, Spiral," Mojo muttered, voice now reaching a growl. He sat back, waiting to see who would make the first move.

Ultimately, it was Spiral that started the fight, artificial limbs moving to grab the power source from his chair. Mojo may have been strong, but with no power source his hoverchair would collapse and he would be almost helpless to move due to his sheer weight. With him immobile, she needed only to dodge any swing from his arm and deliver a critical strike. From there, the fight would have been hers.

Her calm confidence quickly turned to dismay when her strike to destroy the power source was met with dismal failure. Not only had her attack failed to so much as dent the covering, but now she found that an electric current was running through her arm, and she roared out in pain, pulling back and recoiling as she desperately struggled to continue in spite of the agony.

Unfortunately for her, her efforts were in vain as she felt the arm suddenly go dead, though she quickly composed herself in time to roll out of the way of a beam attack that came her way.

"I'm telling you, Spiral. This can all end if you simply choose to-"

"HRAAGH!" Spiral roared savagely as she tried to strike again, this time with a pair of swords, one in her remaining mechanical arm and the other in one of her real arms. The first strike narrowly missed his head, but the second never came close to hitting him as he grabbed her sword and snapped it with one hand, violently yanking out the mechanical arm with the other and knocking her back across the room.

She struggled to rise again, reaching for her remaining weapon even though she had no mechanical arms left to lose and at least two broken bones. Limping, she tried to sprint forwards, but Mojo effortlessly rammed her aside with his hoverchair. She hit the wall back-first, still trying to rise even though she had almost certainly broken her leg. Any effort to stand was rewarded only with pain and a scream of anger.

The energy beam charged up as Mojo turned his weapon towards her and fired. For several agonising seconds, her body went into spasm and she felt truly helpless, unable to even curse in his direction or do anything but scream.

Then for her, everything went black and her body slumped.

Mojo stared at her for what felt like an eternity, for once feeling a pang of genuine guilt. The look on his face was difficult to read given his bizarre visage and flabby cheeks, but in place of his grin, there was now a disappointed frown.

Any further thought or feeling was cut off as Scarlet Witch and Storm entered the room, staring in surprise at Spiral's slumped form and Mojo's chair floating over her.

With uncharacteristic silence, Mojo turned towards the two mutants and began firing.

* * *

**Unnamed City, North America, Unknown Future**

Charles Xavier briefly stuck his head out from behind the building as he heard something rumble above. He widened his eyes at the sight.

Floating two hundred metres in the air was an air carrier, not too dissimilar from the Helicarrier that S.H.I.E.L.D. had introduced not so long ago and began using as a mobile base. There were, however, multiple key changes. For a start, this version was considerably smaller, as it didn't function as a headquarters. Secondly, its arsenal had been supplemented by what appeared to be energy weapons, making an already formidable ship even deadlier. Thirdly, he noticed that the previous logo had been crudely ripped off and then replaced with a pyramid symbol; even with the best efforts of the designer, it was obvious that this had been stolen and not made from scratch.

He ducked back into the darkness and clung to the wall, desperately hoping that he wouldn't be seen as a searchlight swept the streets. As it drew nearer to his position, he ran further into the darkness and slid underneath a dumpster, grimacing at the stench. Fortunately, it seemed to work, and he slid back out, continuing on his way as the carrier zoomed along.

As he was about to round a corner, he noticed two military transports with multiple Infinites onboard, each clad in a form of heavy armour. He managed to stop himself from running out just in time, but his relief was short-lived as he heard the sound of a motorbike revving up not far away. He immediately ran, briefly glancing over his shoulder to notice Candra on his tail.

_How did she find me?_ His thoughts were wild and full of possibilities, but right now his mind could only focus on the fact that a psychotic mutant was chasing after him. There would be time to think about this later.

He turned into an alleyway, grimacing as he realised it was that or run onto the street and expose himself to other threats. He kept running, faster than he felt he had since he'd had the unimpaired use of his legs as a younger man, and he turned to exit the alleyway and slip into a back street.

Behind him, Candra thrust her hand out to launch a telekinetic blast his way and he was knocked to his feet, slamming into a wall on the far side of the back street and landing next to a pile of metallic pipes. He groaned as he desperately tried to pull himself to his feet, but his head was spinning and for several seconds he felt as if he wanted to pass out, his legs struggling to pull up.

_No, please. Don't let my legs be useless to me again, not now._

For a second he was able to stand, but then he collapsed. As he fell, he noticed a transport pulling up on the far end of the street, its lights blinding him while the heavily armoured soldiers onboard had already prepared to disembark and detain him or worse. From the alleyway, the headlights of the bike shone forwards as Candra drew ever closer. He noticed that this time they had all been smart enough to wear those cursed helmets.

_I can at least say I lasted longer than most,_ he reflected darkly. There was little to do now but wait for the end. He closed his eyes, expecting the worst.

Just as the bike and its rider emerged from the alleyway, a crimson slash of light struck both of them, and they both vanished seemingly into thin air. At this, the soldiers looked around in panic, and Charles Xavier opened his eyes.

"Enemies incoming! Spread out! They can't get us all at-"

Whatever tactical chatter the troops had been going through, it was cut short as the large pile of metallic pipes rose up into the air with a loud, magnetic hum, spearing through the air and impaling the front of the transport. The vehicle was then unceremoniously lifted through the air, and thrown onto the top of the building along with the majority of the troops. The ones that managed to avoid being thrown several metres into the air instead found that they were knocked backwards by several energy blasts.

It was now that Charles Xavier dared to rise to his feet, supporting himself with the wall as he limped forwards. This was far from the only confusing experience he'd had in the last few days, but it raised several questions.

As a figure emerged from the darkness he found one of them had already been answered. His grey hair was longer than he remembered, with it being braided so as to stop it growing out of control, but his costume was largely the same, with the red clothes, purple cape, and his iconic helmet over his head. Behind him, several other beings emerged.

At the forefront of the group was Quicksilver in a darker costume than normal, with an "x" on his right shoulder. Next to him was Sabretooth, clad in a more militaristic version of his usual outfit, with a utility belt slung over his shoulder. To her right was Blink, who looked more or less the same as usual, then Mystique who was clad in a darker longcoat, a more militarised Colossus who was looking sterner than before, and finally a young Japanese man in his early twenties that he did not recognise.

Finally, he turned his attention to the man directly in front of him. His face almost appeared rejuvenated in the split second, as an unusually warm smile spread across his face.

"Hello, Charles."

* * *

**Outer Space, Unknown Location, Present Day**

The fight was tougher than either mutant had expected. Rather than cackle madly as he had apparently used to, the alien in front of them was saying absolutely nothing, firing beams madly as he desperately hoped to hit them and his sanity slowly slipped away. Eventually, Scarlet Witch managed to fire off a pair of energy bolts his way, but they both seemed to harmlessly fade away before making contact with Mojo himself.

"It's no good! He seems to have some sort of force field, and I'm afraid about what'll happen if I try going in for melee combat."

"I have an idea," Storm muttered. "I can't cast down lightning since we're not on a planet, but I think I can improvise."

With those words, Storm managed to roll underneath his hoverchair and dodge his efforts to squash her, grabbing hold of the power source. As she expected, the electricity soon began sourcing down her arm as Mojo grinned madly, firing another shot at Wanda as she tried to move out of cover.

Then he realised that the shock wasn't actually doing her any harm.

"Wait, _what_?"

"The first rule of any television show, Mojo," Storm bellowed, channelling the energy that she was busy absorbing from his chair. "Be sure to look up the talent you're employing!"

With that, she directed all her fire at the power source, causing Mojo to roar as his shields flickered away. Taking advantage of the sudden opening, Wanda drew all her power into one blast and fired straight at his face. The impact was enough to seriously concuss him, and he found himself spinning out of control, crashing through a window and falling several stories to a lower floor as his hoverchair finally failed.

"No, no, **NO!**"

Mojo's roar of despair was not simply at being beaten, but noticing that his chair had crashed and died in the worst possible place. There was a low growl that turned into a roar as the Wendigo moved to advance towards him, having presumably made short work of the Marauders in the lower levels.

"Help me, please!"

For several seconds, Storm and Wanda simply waited, uncertain as to whether or not they would help him, but the decision was eventually taken out of their hands as a being appeared onboard and effortlessly swatted the beast aside. He was similar to Mojo in that he was a member of the same species, although his complexion was a darker shade of green and he seemed to be bearing some official insignia on his walking platform.

"Mojo, for your crimes against the Council and the Spineless ones, including but not limited to attempted genocide, rebellion, conspiracy to engineer an intergalactic war, murder, industrial sabotage, corruption and illegal broadcasting, you are to be sentenced to a military tribunal, with the likely sentence of capital punishment. Do you have anything to say in your defence before you are detained?"

The only reply was something best described as angry gibberish, with the odd word of profanity thrown in.

"A pity. I had hoped for a rant about how we were corrupt and unjust rulers, but evidently you are too broken even for that."

With those words, a portal opened behind Mojo, and two Marauders, clad in a different sort of armour, dragged him through before it closed behind them.

"As for you," the alien muttered, "the Council is aware that provoking a war with Earth may be potentially more trouble than it is worth. For that reason, all operations in your centre of space are to be ceased immediately, on the condition that humans will do their part to keep the peace in all future interactions."

"We were hardly the ones who started this whole affair," Scarlet Witch muttered, clearly annoyed by the whole affair and how long it had taken to fix. The alien ignored her.

"Council forces are presently cleaning up the ship and dealing with any remaining resistance. His lieutenant Spiral shall be taken to a medical bay and treated for her injuries; this is her reward for helping us, along with a reduced sentence should she make it to a court."

That reminded Storm. In spite of everything that had happened, her apparent beating at Mojo's hands had looked positively brutal. She hoped that if there was a higher power, it would grant her mercy in some form.

"That remains to be seen. She may survive her injuries, but even if she does, she may never truly wake or be the same again."

There was a sigh of some sort from Wanda, seemingly also taken aback by what they had discovered. Eventually, it was the alien that broke the following silence.

"Your friends have already been assisted with the deactivation of the bomb and been returned to their rightful area of space. We shall now do the same to you. Good day."

The warning was surprisingly quick, as within seconds a portal opened behind them and they were given an encouraging shove through it. For several moments, they felt confused as they waited for their surroundings to change.

Eventually, both Storm and Wanda found themselves sprawled on the lawn of the X-Mansion, next to Beast, Iceman and Nightcrawler. Noises of surprise came from the Mansion, as they turned their heads to see Logan approaching with Scott, Jean and Piotr.

"What the heck happened to you all? Where have you been?"

The group all sighed, clearly relieved to be back.

"It's a long story. You probably don't want to know."

* * *

**Alright. After much exhaustion, I have finished the second arc of this story. I am so committed to getting this done that I am staying up late, with an eleven-hour plane journey to California the next morning, to finish, correct and upload this.**

**As I've said and alluded to many times both in and out of the story, this arc has been ridiculous. I normally am not a fan of rewriting things unless seriously needed, so I'll throw it to a "vote" if you will. If enough people want me to significantly edit the arc so that the painful parts are cut out or toned down, I'll consider doing it. I don't want to have to rewrite the entire thing, however.**

**Anyways, we're moving on next chapter to hopefully better things. This arc will be a bit more grounded and focus on the new Human High Council, as well as the various consequences they have for the X-Men, besides being simply an enemy to face. I don't have a title confirmed, but in all likelihood it'll be something like "A New Order, Act 1". Thanks for all your support- if you've managed to make it to the end of this chapter, please drop me a review, favourite, and recommend to your friends so I can improve further. Till next time (probably in a couple of weeks- I'll have my laptop in California but want to enjoy the sights first), be well!**


	18. A New Order Act 1, Part 1

**A/N: Greetings, everyone! Hope you're all having a decent time wherever you are. I must say that the USA is great, although there are still a lot of things that confuse me, mainly the fact that pretty much everything is paper after 50 cents. Anyhoo, I'll get on with the work. Hope you can forgive me for blowing off a bit of steam and just choosing to relax for a week or two- I'll start work on the arc and try to make it consistent.**

**Vendettakiller19: Don't worry- I'm not going to stop with the arc. I just needed a short break and wanted to see the sights and live in the moment. I'm presently crashing in Laguna Beach and therefore I've got much more time on my hands, though I'll be back in the UK by the time the next one comes out.**

**Ninjaofmusic-Nya: Thanks for taking the time to read through the stuff you missed initially and review it, much appreciated! I'm pleased that Archangel is still as menacing as I need him to be, so that proves I was doing something right during Danger Ratings- sorry for scaring you!**

* * *

**New York City, Present Day**

The man felt his heart racing as he noticed the searchlight sweeping the streets from above, with the roar of helicopters temporarily drowning out the noise as the media fought for the best view of the action, while the police at least made an effort to nominally keep the peace and stop the demonstrations from escalating into an all-out riot, as had happened in the past.

He clung to the shadows, desperately doing his best to stay out of sight. To the casual observer, the street he was in appeared deserted, but the keener eye would note the odd movement coming from the brick wall. Closer inspection would reveal a man's shadow, and if not for the overhead activity and vehicles of all sorts rushing past, his panicked breathing may have been easy to hear.

Right now, this day was easily in the running for one of the worst in his entire life.

He leaned out, and then hurriedly pulled back. Yet another truck rushed down the street, slowing down and skidding to a halt before it made a turn in the road. The momentum was enough to open the back doors and send some sort of vehicle flying out from the back. It was difficult to describe in his panicked state, but he briefly overheard the word "scrambler" being mentioned as it landed on thin, spider-like legs, the driver visible through the transparent cockpit bubble that shielded him from the outside world. As it moved along the street, dozens more like it began creepily climbing across the large buildings that made up this part of the city, desperately sweeping the area in search of mutants to arrest and detain.

Relieved that it seemingly hadn't noticed him, he leaned back against the wall and sighed, doing his best to just breathe normally for a few seconds. Quickly, however, his joy turned to surprise when, without warning, one of the scramblers dropped down and landed in the road, turning to face him. He stayed deathly still, but through the transparent cockpit he could see the pilot staring down, presumably at a screen.

A few seconds later, the pilot looked up as his screen showed the infrared image of the mutant trying to blend in to his surroundings, as well as the flashing words _REGISTERD MUTANT: Victor "Anole" Borkowski_.

"_Victor Borkowski, you are in violation of Zero Tolerance Directive 616,"_ the man declared, his voice filtered slightly by his vehicle's loudspeaker.

It was now that Anole started to panic, his camouflage failing him as his skin returned to its natural green colour.

"_Turn yourself in or risk physical injury."_

For a brief second he contemplated turning himself in, thinking that it may perhaps go his way if he decided not to fight. Then he reminded himself that he had only used his powers to try and hide from a world that hated and feared him, and that whatever followed arrest wasn't worth it.

He spun around and madly climbed up the brick wall, the possibility of escape fuelling his efforts. In response, the scrambler walked forward and started to follow him up, its multiple arms providing it with greater balance. He felt the arm swipe at his back and narrowly miss, and redoubled his efforts to climb, his heart pounding in his ears.

There was a loud "BAMF" as another mutant clad mostly in red suddenly appeared out of thin air, clinging to the wall with his hind legs and stretching out his hand. Anole briefly took in the pointy ears, dark blue skin, yellow eyes, misshapen hands and almost demonic tail.

"Here, take my hand!"

The decision wasn't a hard one to make, Victor reasoned to himself. He might as well ask the questions later and get out of here first. He stretched out and took the hand offered to him, hoping that he could get out of sight quickly and to somewhere safe with the stranger.

Moments before they were teleported away, he turned his head to notice the scrambler shooting a tiny barbed probe upwards in their direction. He was fortunate enough for the scrambler to miss him, but the stranger was seemingly not as lucky, as the probe dug into his leg, releasing an electric shock as they both vanished from sight.

They landed in a quiet street a few blocks away. Anole took a moment to assess the damage to himself, seeing that he was fine, before turning his attention to his unexpected rescuer. Electricity was now arcing up his leg as the he realised that the probe had attached to his body. With a painful yell, the blue mutant strained to face him.

"Get off the streets. Hurry," the other man muttered.

"But what about you?"

"Go! I'll be alright!"

Somewhat reluctantly, Victor Borkowski turned and ran down into a dark alleyway as Nightcrawler tried to grab the probe and remove it. His efforts to do so were rewarded with further currents of electricity and resulting pain, seemingly as a way to punish his resistance. He tried once again, but it was as if several ants had crawled inside his body and then spontaneously combusted, all the while hurting him from the inside out.

He convulsed for several seconds as he yelled in pain, before collapsing and groaning as he passed out, the probe still shocking him for a few moments after he fell unconscious.

As he lay unmoving, three scramblers ominously crawled towards him, the way that predators would be certain that their prey is down.

"_Target confirmed as the member of the X-Men Nightcrawler,"_ muttered one of the pilots into his radio.

"_Finally," _said another. _"We finally take down one of those creeps. A hundred bucks goes to the first of us to take down the next one."_

They all muttered their agreement as they drew closer to him, readjusting their targeting systems.

"_Ready...aim...fire..."_

* * *

**It's a shorter chapter than I usually do, but I wanted things to be given a kickstart, as I won't have much time for writing over the next few days. Boy, am I looking forward to writing this story arc.**

**One thing I randomly wish to note is that the scripts originally had Senator Kelly resign his post in the Senate to join the Human High Council, but I didn't feel this matched with the character development that he had in the show, where he chose to step down- also, I kind of made him say he wasn't interested in doing what he'd done before. So I decided I'd add General Kincaid from the X-Men: Legends game, since he fits the bill pretty well.**

**If you've enjoyed then a review, favourite or follow would be appreciated. Be sure to share it with your fellow fans if you enjoyed it, and I'll see you all next time!**


	19. A New Order Act 1, Part 2

**A/N: Hi, everyone. I'm sorry that it's been over a month since the last chapter, but I've been really ill, and long story short what energy I had was committed to my recovery. Now I'm back on form, I intend to finish this chapter as best I can.**

**LeannaFaye: Thanks for reading, I'm glad that you really enjoyed this. While I appreciate the praise, remember the original writers- part of this comes from the scripts which sadly never made it onto the little screen, and they really improved from the previous season in my opinion. At least their work on Avengers: EMH made it through, so there is that.**

**Menatron: I've already PM'd you, but thanks for your enthusiasm and for sticking around.**

* * *

**New York City, present day**

The three scramblers descended towards the fallen Nightcrawler, weapons trained upon his prone form. While there was no sign of their previous target, their pilots reasoned that this new arrival would simply have to make do; after all, it wasn't _quite_ every day that the Mutant Response Division clashed with the X-Men and had anything close to a victory.

"_I'm betting ten dollars that Hodge will be laughing his way to the bank over this,"_ the first deadpanned over the communication system. He noticed the two oncoming MRD vans and helicopter, reasoning to himself that their opponent was both outnumbered and outmatched.

"_Don't get too cocky yet,"_ replied the second. _"We've still got to take him in."_

Just before the oncoming MRD vehicles could arrive to back up the scramblers, an armoured van sped down the street and screeched to a sudden halt, shielding Nightcrawler from the oncoming danger as Cyclops rolled down his window and unleashed several optic blasts in the enemy's direction. The first two scramblers slammed back into the building, whereas the third was sent crashing into one of its comrades.

As he did so, Jean Grey leapt from the other side of the van and raised two hands as a translucent force field formed around the van and Kurt, just in time to block oncoming fire from the helicopter, its onboard weaponry roaring loudly. As the first few shots bounced away harmlessly, Shadowcat phased through the side of the van and grabbed Kurt, grunting slightly as she managed to lift him up and start dragging him back into the van.

Undeterred by the obstacle now in his way, the helicopter pilot continued the barrage, and Jean felt herself stumble as the barrier began to fade. At her peak, maintaining a shield like this wouldn't have been much of a problem at all, but she had still been recovering even before Sinister had somehow attacked her through Cerebro, and now two of the officers had recovered enough to climb out of their now-wrecked scramblers and take firing positions around them, now firing pot shots from their rifles.

"Hurry! I can't hold this much longer," Jean yelled.

It was at this point that the firing intensified as the soldiers seemingly recognised the potential opening. Within seconds, the barrier collapsed and she recoiled, grunting in pain as she did so.

Cyclops took this moment to tweak his visor and fire at one of the downed scramblers, rocking it and making one of the officers duck in panic as the other was knocked backwards. Within milliseconds, he had redirected his gaze at the helicopter, now firing at the tail rotor and knocking it off. The helicopter swerved violently and flew out of sight as its pilot desperately fought to land safely.

Scott reasoned to himself that now would be a good point to get back in the van and leave before any reinforcements showed up. He quickly slammed the door as he sat back behind the wheel.

"Jean! Get inside," he yelled, looking over his shoulder and seeing Kitty in the back with Kurt, a look of fear etched upon her face. He heard the other door close hurriedly as Jean leapt back in, and he immediately put his foot on the accelerator, causing the van to protest slightly as they rushed from the scene.

He spared a moment to look at Jean, who had her face buried in her hands.

"What happened? Were you hit?"

Taking a deep breath, Jean trembled slightly and stared out towards the buildings, noticing more helicopters soaring over the city as more scramblers crawled around the streets, the sounds of gunfire and energy weapons now louder.

"No... I'm okay."

In his mind, Scott knew that the questions he'd asked had been somewhat thoughtless, and that Jean probably had much more on her mind than what had just happened. All he could do now was drive home and hope for no further distractions.

He sighed to himself. This evening certainly hadn't been an easy one.

* * *

**Xavier Mansion, Present Day**

The doors of the sublevel lift almost slammed shut, before the person that had just entered heard a voice from across the corridor.

"Wait."

Logan looked up to see Storm slipping inside to join him, a look of concern etched upon her face. He grabbed the doors to let her enter, before withdrawing his arm and letting the lift begin its journey.

"How is Kurt?"

"I'm going to check on him now," Logan replied.

The team's _de facto_ leader had never been one for much emotion, but to Storm his voice sounded slightly downbeat. Looking at his expression, it was clear that he was somehow exhausted, morose and furious all at the same time. It must have been something that only Logan could do, she reasoned to herself.

"Seems every time we tangle with the Mardies now, someone's gettin' hurt," he muttered.

"They're definitely more advanced than they used to be," Storm agreed.

"And now it's gotten too dangerous."

"Oh?" Storm could barely believe she was hearing the words, and her words were laced with an appropriate dose of scorn. "And since when has anything been _too dangerous_ for you?"

At this point, the lift arrived at its destination, both its occupants still arguing with each other.

"Since every mission we spend fending off the MRD, we're NOT looking for Apocalypse," he barked, striding out. She followed him, growing incensed by his seemingly callous attitude.

There was temporary silence as Logan walked into the corridor, with Storm eventually choosing to resume the conversation as she caught up with him.

"Logan, there are still mutants out there who need our help. We can't ignore that."

"All I'm sayin' is that we have to pick our battles, much as I'd prefer not to. We can't do it all."

"I don't believe that is an opinion Charles would share," she declared. Her voice was little higher than a whisper and she sounded relatively calm, but any passerby would have been able to tell that she was appalled.

"Yeah, well, he's not around to ask anymore."

**Xavier Mansion, Infirmary, Present Day**

The argument finally began to die down as both its participants reached their destination, stopping at the viewing window. Through the glass, they could see the prone form of Nightcrawler delicately propped on top of a bed and hooked up to various machines which monitored his pulse, breathing and other vitals. Next to them stood Beast, his slightly oversized hands sensitively adjusting a screen and staring at it carefully.

Logan rapped on the window with his knuckles, getting Hank's attention. His head turned to face them and he nodded, letting go of the screen and moving towards the infirmary door.

"Consider this, Logan," Storm found herself muttering. "If we give up everything we believe in to save the future, will it really be a future worth saving?"

Logan looked over at her, and for once it was his turn to be lost for words. Before he could debate the issue further in his mind, however, the door finally slid open and Beast emerged.

"How's he doin', Hank?"

"Pretty well," Hank replied. "That's relatively speaking, considering two thousand volts and three different paralysing agents were shot through his system by _this_."

A furry hand reached over to the table, fumbling for a moment before picking up a small stun-probe and holding it in front of their faces, at which point Logan reached out and took it from him. Now it was his turn to hold it up in front of Storm, as if to ask if his point was made clear, although she didn't take the bait.

"Hank, do you have any idea where they're getting this kind of equipment?"

"Unfortunately, no", he sighed. "Though I _have_ determined that not a sliver of metal was used to make this probe, or anything else in their arsenal for that matter. That includes their vehicles."

"Kincaid and the Mardies must really be holdin' a grudge," Logan commented. "He wants to be good 'n' ready for Magneto when they catch up to him."

He threw the probe back to Hank, who caught it with ease, before he walked back towards the corridor and the lift.

"So it's Magneto that we can blame for the new 'n' improved MRD out there."

Storm watched him leave, now concerned that she would be unable to reach through to Logan and convince him that he needed to reconsider his opinions. For some reason, Charles and Jean had managed to get through to him and at least steered him in the right direction, although she remembered that it hadn't always ended well. Now the former was stuck in some nightmarish future and the latter was still recovering from a telepathic attack.

For the first time in a while, Storm found herself questioning whether Charles had made the right choice to elect Logan as leader.

* * *

**Okay, I think I'm going to leave it there for now, but it's a step in the right direction. Thanks for reading; if you have any questions, drop a review and I'll get back to you as soon as possible, either with a PM or an answer in the next chapter. Speaking of which, the next chapter will concern Magneto once again, and I'm really looking forward to it; I feel his last appearance in Danger Ratings didn't do him justice.**

**Until then, I hope everyone has a decent summer, or, if you're one of my few readers in a different part of the hemisphere, a decent winter.**


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